


Into the Black and White

by warriorblood1



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, Nightmare Time - Team StarKid, Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: ADHD Curt Mega, Autistic Hannah Foster, Autistic John McNamara, Autistic Paul Matthews, Canon-Typical Violence, DadNamara, Developing Father-Daughter Relationship, Fix-It, Gen, Guns, Post-Canon, descriptions of panic attacks from time to time, its a fix it au i PROMISE, things just get worse before they get better, trans Emma Perkins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 66,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24623962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warriorblood1/pseuds/warriorblood1
Summary: Hannah Foster and the other survivors of Black Friday work together to survive post-musical.However, Hannah has more going on than what meets the eye, because ever since that fateful night, she's been hearing a second voice: the voice of General John McNamara.Together, the two traverse Hatchetfield post-Black Friday, gaining allies, losing friends, and becoming family.[On hiatus for Feb 2021]
Relationships: Alice Woodward/Deb (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals), Hannah Foster & General John McNamara, Lex Foster/Ethan Green, MINOR/BACKGROUND RELATIONSHIPS:, Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega, Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins, Tom Houston/Becky Barnes
Comments: 97
Kudos: 132





	1. Apotheosis

**Author's Note:**

> ive been thinking about this au for so long and i actually have an outline for it. i NEVER outline, im a pantser. this is insane. anyway this story will primarily focus on Hannah and John, though john isnt in the first chapter very much lol. i hope yall enjoy!!!!

Hannah was running. Not unusual; Hannah ran and hid a lot, usually because she was instructed too. Lex would tell her to run and hide when their mom was in a violent mood. Ethan told her to run and hide in the tunnel of the play structure. 

She realized that, whenever she ran and hid, someone she loved got hurt. 

Hannah couldn’t remember why she was running this time, but she was being chased. A crowd was following her, stumbling, zombie-like, in rhythm. Like a dance. Hannah thought she could hear singing.

Any sound she may have heard was interrupted by a familiar voice, and Hannah felt like she was falling. Not unusual; Webby’s messages often felt like this. 

Her booming voice filled Hannah’s ears and shook her to her core.  _ “Tomorrow will come, tomorrow won’t come, tomorrow come today.”  _ She repeated over, and over, and over, and over until the message was surrounding, enveloping,  _ drowning _ Hannah.

There are hands, clawing at her, so covered in blue that Hannah wasn’t sure if there was any skin under it. The bright color surrounded her, filling her vision until the familiar darkness disappeared, replaced by nothing but blue.

Webby’s commanding voice and eerie message, the countless hands clawing at her flesh, the intensely bright blue… it was too much. Where was Lex? She wasn’t alone, right? 

Hannah felt something drip down her face. Was it blood? If so, who’s? Webby’s message didn’t let up and Hannah continued to drown, helplessly hoping for rescue from a threat she didn’t understand.

A voice cut through the madness and sensations. A simple, “Stop, that’s too much.” Said with force, but not anger. 

Hannah sat up in her makeshift bed. Her face was wet with tears and sweat. Webby’s voice continued to chant, but much quieter than while she was sleeping. Hannah took a moment to calm down and breathe, looking around the room. She was alone, but Lex had left her own makeshift bed unmade and messy, standing out in comparison to Alice and Tim’s neatly-made beds. Deb’s was completely put away, as usual. Hannah wondered if she had even taken it out the night previous.

Hannah’s observations helped her calm down. The Professor’s house was grey and sterile, but it was safe, and the group had slowly been making it more like a home, much to the Professor’s distaste. 

As Hannah was getting dressed and re-braiding her hair, she noticed that Webby had stopped chanting. Worried it was because she had ignored her friend, Hannah mumbled an apology.

As if in response, Webby spoke back up, saying a new phrase, only once. 

_ “The Apotheosis is upon us.” _

Hannah stopped mid-braid. “What?” She asked aloud, but received no answer. She frowned, fiddling with the unfinished braid.

What the heck is an apotheosis?

Her internal wondering was also left unanswered, and she huffed. She hated it when Webby ignored her. They were supposed to be friends! The other voice… she didn’t want to think about  _ him  _ right now. Webby didn’t like him, so neither did she.

Hannah finished her braid, put on the warrior’s hat, and half-made her bed. She really didn’t see the point in doing it, but Lex said she had too. 

With the room all set up, Hannah cracked open the door and peered out into the hallway. There was no one out there, but she could hear voices not too far away, and something else too…

Music. It wasn’t music like in her dream, it felt less sinister and more goofy. 

Hannah stepped fully into the hallway and shut the door behind her. It was probably the Professor; he liked to play music, but didn’t share it that much. The fact that he was playing meant that the house was probably mostly, if not entirely, empty.

She thought for a moment. The Professor was, well, a professor. He knew lots of things about science and music. He would know what an apotheosis is, right?

Hannah found her logic to be pretty sound, and followed the music to a small room with a tiny, raised stage. On the stage, unsurprisingly, was a keyboard, and playing the keyboard was the Professor. From time to time he would sing, but he wasn’t today.

It didn’t take long for him to notice Hannah and stop playing. He grinned at her and stood. “Hannah! Glad to see you finally woke up. Your sister was getting worried. Are you hungry?”

Hannah shook her head no, which was the truth, but reminded herself to eat later. The Professor had a lot of food stocked up for situations like this, but with so many people at his house, it wouldn’t last nearly as long as he planned. It’s important to eat while you can.

The Professor got off his tiny stage and walked over to her. “Did you need something, Hannah? Or just wanted to see the show?”

Hannah fiddled with her shirt. “Apotheosis.” She mumbled, looking at the keyboard.

“Apotheosis?” The Professor repeated, urging her to explain. Adults always wanted her to use her words.

“What’s apotheosis mean?” She clarified.

He nodded and walked back towards the stage. “Well, it has two meanings.” He grabbed the stool from behind the keyboard and set it in the center of the room before sitting on it. Hannah inched closer and sat on the floor near him.

“First,” he began, “an apotheosis is the highest point in someone’s life or job. Like, reaching the top of the mountain, it’s all downhill from there. Or the climax of a novel!”

Hannah nodded, truthfully understanding. She wasn’t sure how she could have reached her apotheosis when she was only thirteen, but Webby was never wrong.

“The second definition is…” The Professor paused, a hand on his chin. “Well, to put it bluntly, it’s the evolution into godhood. Being raised up into the heavens, that kind of thing.”

That got Hannah thinking, and her thinking worried her. Was Hannah becoming a god? Or was Webby talking about Wiggly? Even  _ thinking  _ his name made her shudder. 

Eventually, Hannah sighed, frustrated and getting a headache. It was probably not too big a deal; most of Webby’s warning’s didn’t directly affect Hannah. She still hadn’t figured out what the  _ “Cross”  _ and  _ “two doors not one”  _ messages had been about. This was likely just another one to add to the pile.

The Professor snapped Hannah out of her thoughts with a question of his own. “May I ask, where did you learn that word? It’s not exactly widely used, not anymore.”

At least it was an easy answer. “Webby.”

The Professor nodded. He liked hearing about Webby and the Black and White, and had sprung up a million theories about it.  _ He _ sometimes complemented the Professor’s work, other times criticized it. Hannah didn’t care either way, she just wanted  _ him _ to be quiet.

“I figured I would ask. You see, I’m not sure if I’ve told you before or not, Hannah, but I had a theory about how the apocalypse would happen.” The Professor gestured widely. “The whole world would become a musical! Everyone singing and dancing, all united as one, all across the world! World peace… but at what cost?”

The Professor continued his rant and Hannah listened patiently. She had a feeling he didn’t get to talk to people much. It was nice to hear such passion, even if it was about the end of the world.

Her peace, however fragile, didn’t last long.

There was a hum in her ear. “He doesn’t know how on the nose he was. Right apocalypse, wrong dimension.”

Hannah frowned and tore at the hem of her shirt. It was  _ him. _

_ “Apotheosis. Bad, John.” _ Right on cue, in came Webby. Normally Hannah would be relieved, asd Webby usually got  _ him  _ to be quiet, but Webby had been so  _ loud  _ in her dream and then ignored her all morning, so she wasn’t so certain.

“I know it’s bad.”  _ He _ said, and Hannah could hear the tension in his voice. “I never said it wasn’t. I simply said Professor Hidgens’ theory was correct. I see no issue.”

_ “Hannah.”  _ Webby growled, and Hannah flinched, despite the tone not being directed at her. 

“I’m sure Hannah doesn’t mind. Right?”

Hannah blinked and tried to rip apart her shirt.  _ He _ always wanted her to answer. He couldn’t hear her think like Webby could. Why did she have to talk?

Webby interrupted before Hannah could open her mouth, not that she planned too, and sounded angry.  _ “Stop. No talk.” _

_ He  _ sighed. “I’m not forcing her to talk. I’d rather keep this argument between you and me.”

_ “Webby wins.” _

“You can’t just say that you win and end it. Nothing is ever that simple.”

_ “Leave.” _

“I wish I could.”

_ “Leave Hannah!” _

Outside her head, Hannah’s hands had drifted from her shirt to her ears, and the pressure was enough to make her head rumble. Unfortunately, the rumble wasn’t nearly loud enough to drown out the bickering voices.

It took a few tries for the Professor to get Hannah to notice and hear him. She let him take her hands and help her calm down, breathing slowly and drying her tears. As she calmed, the voices fell silent. She knew they were listening, they always were.

Once she was more settled, the Professor moved back to his stool, which he had brought a bit closer. “Hannah,” she noted his habit of saying people’s names often, “may I ask you a question?”

She nodded yes.

He nodded in return. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I noticed you’ve been a little more… on edge lately. Has Webby been saying anything to you, Hannah? Besides the apotheosis stuff.”

Hannah thought. Really, Webby had been no different than she had ever been. Sure, Webby’s warning’s scared her from time to time, but she was a friend, and she didn’t mean too.

It wasn’t Webby who was upsetting Hannah. It was  _ him. _ John.

Hannah almost told the Professor as much, but stopped herself. There were people in the house who thought she was weird, she knew that. They didn't believe Webby was real, and thought she was crazy. Something told her that if she admitted she was hearing a  _ second  _ voice now, it might just make the rumors worse.

She sighed, and thought an apology to Webby, before looking at the Professor’s neatly-styled grey hair.

“Argues. Loud. Talks too much. Mean, not helpful. Scary, always. Makes me talk.” She resisted the urge to pout, and hoped the Professor wouldn’t have her explain further.

He looked worried. “This seems out of character for Webby. I certainly hope something isn’t wrong…” He trailed off for a moment before resuming focus on her. “Hannah, if you ever need help, ask me or your sister. The two of us, for certain, will be glad to help however we can.”

Hannah nods. In her head, Webby tries to stay quiet.  _ “You, John. Scary. Unhelpful. Loud.” _

There’s a pause, and Hannah assumes  _ he  _ is ignoring Webby before being immediately disproven. “I see. Hannah, I sincerely apologize for scaring you. I promise, in the future, I will do my best to help you without causing you any harm.” There’s another, briefer pause. “I will stay quiet unless one of us needs the other, and that is a promise.”

Hannah huffs. As if she’d ever need  _ him _ . 

Now that all was quiet, Hannah asked the Professor where Lex was, and he led her to a room they had recently dubbed the “Fun Room,” courtesy of Paul and Emma trying their best. Inside was all the games and fun things they had, which wasn’t much. The most entertaining thing in the room was the large amount of LEGOs, which the Professor had collected for a while before falling out of it, but never got rid of. He claimed they made good defense measures, but Hannah figured he just liked to build with them.

In the room was Lex, as promised, who immediately came to check up on Hannah, as well as Tim. Hannah figured Deb and Alice were off being cute together somewhere. The Professor decided to stay, and the four of them chatted and played chess (or in Tim and Hannah’s case, watched the Professor and Lex play chess). 

It was a while before there was a knock on the door, and in came Tom and Paul. Tom sat with his son, and Paul stayed near the door, relaying to the Professor what supplies they had found and where, a list which Hannah mostly tuned out. If there was anything important, Webby or Lex would tell her.

The more impactful news came with Emma and Becky. Emma nearly fell asleep in Paul’s arms, claiming she had run all over the house looking for everyone, and gestured to Becky to explain.

“There are people at the Old Starlight Theater.”

A simple enough statement as it is, Hannah didn’t see any problems with that. There were bound to be more people around the town. 

But Becky continued. “They seemed to be putting on a show of some kind. But, the weirdest part is… some of them are people we knew.”

The Professor looked up from the chess game he was currently losing. “What do you mean, Becky?”

“Well, I saw the ToyZone manager there, and some doctors from Saint Damien’s-- even Linda!” She fixed her hair and tried not to get mad. Becky wasn’t one to boast about murder, but she was happy to have killed Linda Monroe.

The Professor was intrigued, the chess game forgotten. Lex looked worried. “Bet it’s a cult. Maybe they’re reviving people…”

“Well, there was one other thing.” Becky mentioned, trying to politely interrupt.

Emma groaned against Paul’s side and shifted so she could be heard. “There’s a weird fu-” she caught herself, remembering there were children around. “There’s a portal on the stage. I saw people coming out of it.”

The Professor paced around the room. “Singing and dancing, like in a musical. A portal. People back from the dead… This could be a much bigger deal than you think. We need to investigate immediately!”


	2. Infected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some names I had to make up (or are lesser known) in this chapter so here's your guide:  
> -Chris Hartly (James Tolbert's citizen character who is in the final scene, wears a red sweater)  
> -Ken & Carol Davidson (Paul/Bill/Ted/Charlotte's boss and his wife. Also it's not important but in my head I see Carol played by Denise Donovan)  
> -Ed & Peanuts (Peanuts the Pocket Squirrel and his adopted dad, who is apparently canonically named Ed!)  
> -Oliver Green (Hot Chocolate Boy! There's a theory that Ethan's cousin Oliver that he mentions early in the show is the HCB. Oliver and Lex's relationship will be elaborated upon later, I promise.)

The survivors — all eighteen of them — were gathered in the living room-slash-bar and discussed who would further investigate the Old Starlight Theater. 

The five children were eliminated first, as the adults were doing their best to protect them. Lex didn’t consider herself a child by any measure, and despite her arguments that Oliver was only a year older than her and yet was considered an adult, she was confined inside. 

In the end, Ken Davidson and Chris Hartly ended up being the pair to go. Ken said goodbye to his wife and they left.

Hannah looked at the clock. That was five hours ago. “They were only supposed to be gone an hour,” she once again told her sister.

Lex’s frown only grew deeper. “I know, Banana. They probably just got lost.” The same thing she said last time.

Hannah sat with her chin in her hands, watching the older kids play poker, betting with any random thing they had in their pockets. Lex had bet her phone, now useless since the phone lines went down ages ago, but at least it had some games. Alice had bet a ribbon tie, and Deb her signature beanie. Oliver wasn’t going to join, until Deb convinced him to bet his suspenders.

Normally, when the older kids would have games like this, Hannah would bet with Tim on who would win, but he was with his dad playing guitar, so she was left to bet with herself. Currently, Hannah thought Deb would win, and also thought that she would probably hold onto her prizes for a day or so before returning them. That’s how the games usually went.

Hannah glanced at the clock. Five hours and eleven minutes. 

She tried to ask Webby what had happened, but got no response. She was a fickle spider. Briefly, Hannah considered asking John for help, but wrote it off just as quick. If she asked John, him and Webby would just start arguing again.

The teens finished their game, in a turn of chance Alice ended up winning, and she gave back everything but Deb’s beanie, and everyone went to bed, Oliver leaving to go to the room he shared with Ed and, usually, Chris. 

Tim was apparently spending the night with his dad, as he never came back to the room. The thought that maybe he somehow disappeared like Ken and Chris kept Hannah up most of the night.

The next morning, Hannah felt a headache coming on. She figured it was a lack of sleep, but secretly hoped it could be a sign that Webby had something to say. 

She greeted the Professor in the kitchen, getting some breakfast. He tended to let her and the other kids have a little more than their share of food, but she did her best to stick to the proper rations.

“Hannah,” he almost always started with her name, “good morning. How are you doing?”

Hannah shrugged.

He nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

She took a bite of her toast, wiping the crumbs off her mouth with her sleeve. Eyes on the ground, she mumbled, “Worried.”

“Hm? Hannah, what did you say?”

He said the same thing the first time he heard her speak, and she had been a normal volume then. She supposed she had just surprised him. Hannah repeated, louder, “Worried.”

“Worried.” He echoed. “About what?”

She took another bite of her toast to buy time. She really didn’t feel like talking much today. “Starlight. Apotheosis. Ken and Chris.”

She looked up and saw the Professor’s mouth was a little “o” shape. He sighed and fixed the sleeves of his turtleneck. “Do you want the truth, or do you want comfort?”

Without hesitation, Hannah responded, loud enough for him to hear. “Truth.” There was a beat, and she added, “Please.”

The Professor nodded. “The truth, Hannah, is that Ken and Chris are likely not coming back. If they found what I think they found down at the Starlight…” He rubbed his face. “I’m sorry, Hannah. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

Hannah ate her toast and the two stood in the kitchen in silence until Charlotte and Ted came in, who were immediately too loud for Hannah’s liking.

Hannah snuck out of the room. Charlotte was nice, and Hannah liked talking to her alone or with other girls, but around Ted, and honestly, any adult man, she was different. Ted, meanwhile, was loud, and rude, and smelled weird, and was altogether a weird experience for her. He did his best to avoid all the kids, and their few interactions were short.

In the living room-slash-bar, Hannah found a small group of adults, standing around. She sat on the couch and listened.

There was Emma, Paul, Becky, Bill, Ed, and Carol. Emma was quietly but passionately arguing with Carol, with everyone else taking sides.

“Emma, you aren’t married. You don’t know what I’m going through!” Carol rubbed her eyes, fighting back tears.

“Mrs. Davidson, get it together!” Emma’s voice raised slightly and Hannah flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Paul added in a softer tone, “but your husband, and Chris… if they aren’t back by now, they’re gone.”

“Which is why we should look for them!” Carol pressured, Ed nodding and petting Peanuts behind her.

“If they’re hurt, I can help them.” Becky chimed in. “Me and Henry have been making sure we have everything stocked for a medical center, there’s quite a bit we can treat—”

“Becky, please, shut up.” Emma groaned. Hannah didn’t really understand why they didn’t get along. Becky was really nice, and Emma was too, she just tried not to be.

Bill stepped in front of Emma. “Becky, I’m sure you could help them, but I just don’t think it’s worth sending more people out. I mean, there are _kids_ here, we can’t leave them alone during an apocalypse!”

Ed looked down at Peanuts. “You have a point there.”

Carol groaned. “Your squirrel is not a child, Edgar!”

He held Peanuts close to his chest. “How would you know? I’m pretty sure you don’t _have_ kids!”

Carol scoffed, and the argument fell to pieces. Hannah tried to tune it out, but it got too loud, so she left.

It wasn’t until she was in the front room that she realized Paul had followed her. He didn’t say anything, just waved, and she waved in return. They sat against the wall in silence for a while, and Hannah found herself feeling better in his company. 

It was a long while before she spoke up. “Thank you.”

Paul looked over at her. “No problem. I had to get away from that mess anyway.”

She nodded. That kind of chaos was just too much. 

Hannah had another, more personal question on her mind, and after some debate, decided to ask it. “Do you miss it?”

Paul once again looked over at her. “Miss what?”

“Everything.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I do. I can’t imagine anything much worse than this.”

And then the doorbell rang. 

Both jumped up, shared a glance, and then Paul pressed his ear against the door. “Who is it?”

“Paul?” Came the voice from the other side.

“No, _I’m_ Paul! Wait.” He sighed. “Yes, this is Paul, who is this?”

“Your boss! Let me in, it’s insane out here!”

Paul looked back to Hannah. “Go get the Professor.” He then leaned back against the door. “Uh, one moment Mr. Davidson. There’s, um. Something stuck in the lock.”

Hannah ran back to the kitchen, hoping to still find the Professor there, with no luck. She returned to the bar area, where the argument had stopped but the tension had only grown. “Professor? Professor?” She asked them all, looking between the many faces.

Emma came to her side. “He’s in his lab, what do you need?”

“Doorbell. Paul. Ken. Door.” She pulled on her braids. “There’s someone at the door.”

At the mention of her husband’s name, Carol shot up. “Ken’s back? Oh, thank God!” And she dashed to the front room.

“Carol!” Emma stomped. “God damn it, Carol!” And she also went running off.

Not sure where the lab was, Hannah stood in place, thinking for what to do. She didn’t have to think long, as Bill kneeled beside her after a few moments. 

“Hannah, you go find your sister and stay safe, okay? I’ll get the Professor.” He smiled at her kindly, and she nodded, leaving for the game room.

Sure enough, Lex was in the Fun Room, playing go fish with Oliver. She tugged on Lex’s sleeve. “Someone’s at the door, the door…”

Lex dropped her cards and gently took Hannah’s hands in her own. “Who’s at the door?”

Hannah squeezed Lex’s hands, looking at the burns from cigarettes (and worse) on her fingers. “Ken. Paul. Emma. Carol.”

“Ken?” Lex sounded confused, and Oliver cleared his throat.

“Ken Davidson, one of the two who went to investigate the Starlight Theater.” He pushed up his glasses. “Lex, you really need to start learning people’s names.”

“Thanks for the advice, suspenders.” Lex stood and rearranged her hands so that Hannah could hold one comfortably and have the other still be free. “C’mon, Hannah. Let’s make sure this isn’t bad news.”

Hannah wanted to let go, to stay where she was, to play go fish with Lex and Oliver. Something inside her screamed this _was_ bad news, and they should stay away. But, she trusted Lex. Her sister could protect her. With Lex, Hannah was safe.

They arrived in the front room to an argument. Paul was leaning against the door, Carol trying to pull him away but being held back, barely, by Emma. The Professor was pacing, not helping much, and Bill was desperately trying to be the mediator. Somewhere amidst the chaos, Hannah could hear Ken still begging to be let in.

Lex listened to the adults yelling for all of five seconds before she told Hannah to cover her ears, which she did. Lex let out a loud whistle, drawing everyone’s attention to herself.

“You’re all fucking idiots. Come on, you’re the adults here! You’re supposed to be civil and set good examples!” She scoffed, putting her hands in her pockets. “Assholes. Look, I don’t care what you do with the guy outside, just do it quietly, okay? Not everything needs to be a fucking war.”

Paul nodded. “Thank you, Lex, you’re right—”

“Paul.” The Professor interrupted. “Open the door.”

There was a moment of hesitation after he spoke, and then, at the same time, Emma shouted in disagreement and Carol whooped with joy.

Emma let go of Carol and moved to the Professor’s side. “Professor, we should talk about this more!”

“No, Emma.” He stroked his chin. “I need to see if I’m right. And if I’m wrong, it will be disappointing. But! It will be good to have him back.”

“Professor—” Emma was cut off by the man in question grabbing her shoulders.

“You are in charge. I’ll be back in less than five minutes.”

Before she could complain, the Professor had run off. Emma groaned.

Bill broke the silence. “Are we supposed to wait for him to get back?”

“I would figure so.” Paul shrugged, still leaning against the door.

“He said to open it!” Carol argued. “So open it! Or I’ll do it myself.”

Paul put his hands up in a surrender motion. “I’m just saying— Ah!”

Clearly impatient, Carol grabbed Paul’s wrists and pulled him away from the door. He tumbled into Bill, nearly sending them both to the floor. She then unlocked the door and opened it, arms outstretched to hold her husband once more.

From Hannah’s point of view, she couldn’t see much. Just Carol hugging someone, and arms around her as well. Then Ken stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

Webby immediately started shouting, frantic. _“The Apotheosis is upon us, the Apotheosis is upon us, the Apotheosis is upon us—”_ over and over and over. Hannah screwed her eyes shut.

“Hannah,” came that dreaded second voice, “you need to get everyone out of here. Isolate Ken—”

 _“John said quiet!”_ Webby roared, reminding the man of his promise.

“I know,” he kept his voice level. “But this is life-threatening. If she doesn’t leave now—”

_“Quiet! Not helpful! Rude!”_

“Do you _want_ her to die?”

The argument continued, just as Hannah figured it would. She covered her ears, but as usual, it didn’t help.

She barely registered a hand on her shoulder, guiding her into the hallway.

A soothing touch was undoing and redoing her braids. When Hannah opened her eyes, she was unsurprised to see it was Lex. The older girl smiled at her. “Too much for you? That’s okay. We can go and play with the other kids, if you want. Maybe Tim can show us his new guitar moves, huh?”

Hannah focused on her breathing, and repeated what she could remember Webby and John saying. “The Apotheosis is upon us. Isolate him. Apotheosis, life-threatening…” She trailed off with a sigh. The rest was the two arguing. 

Lex nodded, solemn. “Webby then. I see. What’s an apotheosis?”

“High point. Evolution. Godhood.”

“Wow.” Lex moved her hair out of her face. “Webby knows some weird words.”

“Professor told me.”

“I see.” Lex stands. “Well, whatever it means, it’ll be okay. Right?”

Lex didn’t mean it as a real question, but Hannah took it as such anyway. She furrowed her brow, looking for the right way to speak her thoughts.

“Don’t trust Ken. _I_ don’t trust Ken.”

Lex frowned. “I mean. Yeah, it’s suspicious he came back. But why?”

Hannah shrugged. “Today has bad vibes.”

Lex laughed, Hannah heard it. But the laughter was cut short by the sound of screams, and Lex’s face dropped.

The two rushed back to the front room to a bizarre sight.

Bill was on the floor, clutching his neck, terrified eyes firmly watching Carol. Paul was standing in front of him, trying to usher Bill back, and Emma was at Paul’s side. In front of them was Ken and Carol, something blue and sticky-looking dripping from their mouths. Their eyes seemed to glow with that same unnatural blue, and they wore grins so wide it looked like their faces would crack.

Hannah had seen it before. Her dream, of drowning in blue. It was that same blue. “Apotheosis.” She whispered, her breath catching. 

The couple looked back at Lex and Hannah. When they spoke, it was in unison. “We remember you all. You were already part of the Hive. Don’t you know you cannot leave? We live here.”

“No, _I_ live here.” Came the Professor’s voice, and two gunshots rang out. Hannah covered her ears, and felt Lex pull her close. When she looked up again, Ken and Carol were on the floor, bleeding blue blood.

“Professor?” Emma sounded relieved, frightened, and impressed at the same time. “You shot them!”

The Professor sighed and held his gun at his side. “I leave you in charge for five minutes.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault Carol’s insane!”

Paul helped Bill to his feet. The older man was very shaken up. “I-I was just trying to help her, why did she choke me? I.. I…”

Paul patted his back gently. “Maybe we should go find Becky?” Bill simply nodded. Paul and Emma shared a look and then he led Bill away to the makeshift medical center.

Hannah was looking at the bodies, but soon found her eyes covered by Lex, who also dragged her back to the hallway. Once they were away from the bodies, she uncovered Hannah’s eyes. “Let’s go play in the Fun Room, okay? Okay.”

Later that night, Hannah laid in her bed, clutching the warrior’s hat to her heart. She was trying to ask Webby what had happened with Ken and Carol, but Webby would only say _“Apotheosis”_ and nothing more. It was frustrating.

Once she was certain everyone else in the room was asleep, Hannah whispered. “John?”

She heard a soft hum of acknowledgment.

“What happened?”

Another hum. When he spoke, his voice was soft and quiet. “They were infected. By an alien virus, from another dimension.”

It certainly wasn’t the answer she expected. But John explained eveything she asked about; it ended the world in another universe, it turns people into musical zombies connected to a hivemind, they can be hard to differentiate between non-infected people, and more complicated details that Hannah didn’t entirely understand.

Webby didn’t interfere a single time.

Once she had no more questions, Hannah settled more into her bed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She could almost hear the smile in his voice, despite how serious he seemed.

She laid in bed, trying to sleep, but found something eating at her. “John?”

“Yes?”

She hesitated, but decided it was only fair. “Don’t have to stay quiet. Just… no arguing. Not too loud.”

There was a pause, and Hannah almost wished she could see him, and try and tell if he was mad or not.

“I promise I won’t fight with Webby anymore, Hannah.” He finally responded. “Thank you, for trusting me.”

Hannah nodded. “Welcome.”

“You should go to sleep.”

She nodded again, and this time, she was able to fall asleep when she tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot how many starkid references ill be throwing into this shit. also im not indenting paragraphs anynore because ao3 fuckin hates it
> 
> OH and i neglected to say last chapter that ive been writing this in google docs in comic sans and i need everyone to know okay have a good night


	3. Funeral

Hannah awoke the next morning at what she deemed to be a reasonable time. Everyone was still in the room, with most of them still being asleep. Alice and Deb were quietly talking as they made their beds. Hannah heard a sound near her and reflexively looked for the source of it, relaxing when she saw it was Lex, snoring.

Hannah stretched and got up to get dressed. As she pulled on her yellow flannel and began re-braiding her hair, she silently wished she had more clothes options. It was the little things that really made her miss… everything. Wiggly was never born into her world, but he still managed to destroy it. Lex and the Professor had been keeping a calendar, and according to them, it had been nearly a month; the day should be December 20th, 2018.

_ “Birthday.”  _ Webby added when Hannah remembered the date.  _ “Wiggly birthday. Hannah birthday.” _

Hannah heard John hum. “Wiggly does not have a birthday, he is an eldritch, ageless being.”

_ “Not born. Birthday.”  _ Webby huffed.

“Christmas.” Hannah whispered. “Wiggly came on Christmas.”

“Oh.” John sounded… Hannah wasn’t sure. Angry. Nostalgic. Sad. Understanding. “I see. The portal opened on December 25th, 2005. That’s when Wiggly gained access to our dimension, and…” He cut himself off, but before Hannah could ask anything, he cleared his throat and continued. “Is your birthday on Christmas as well, Hannah?”

She nodded before realizing he wouldn’t be able to see. Much to her surprise, he responded.

“I see. Then happy birthday, Hannah.”

_ “Three!”  _ Webby added with excitement.

“Thirteen _. _ ” Hannah quietly corrected her.

John stayed quiet for a moment. “You were born the same day the portal opened. Perhaps that’s the cause of your strong connection with the Black and White. Regardless, congratulations. Thirteen is a good age, even in a situation such as this.”

“Not yet.” Hannah finished her brains and put on the warrior’s hat.

“Not yet?”

“Five days.”

“Ah, I see. My apologies, time is hard to keep track of here. Five days means today is the 20th, correct?”

Hannah nodded again, but this time she also spoke, “Yes.”

He laughed, only slightly. “I’ll try to congratulate you on the proper day. Will you do me a favor and tell me when it’s the 23rd?”

_ “No help. Unhelpful.”  _ Webby argued, her booming voice turning protective.

Hannah ignored her for the time being. “Why?”

John was quiet for a moment. “I suppose there’s no harm anymore in saying. December 23rd is my birthday.”

Hannah smiled, deciding to make her bed. “Happy birthday. How old?”

John gave another slight laugh. “Easily old enough to be your father. Forty-three.”

_ “Baby General.”  _ Webby laughed.

“I may be young for a General, but I assure you I am no less qualified or experienced.” He defended.

“General?” Hannah questioned.

“Yes.” John’s tone turned professional. “General John McNamara, of the United States Military, Special Unit P.E.I.P., we call it Peep.”

Hannah laughed slightly. “Peep?”

“They’re a good team. Good peeps.”

Hannah laughed and covered her face with a pillow to not wake anyone up. She could hear Webby and John laughing as well.

The laughter didn’t last, however, and John’s tone turned somber. “It is… unfortunate that I cannot be with them anymore.”

Hannah calmed down and set her pillow on her lap. “Why not?”

_ “Black and White. Two doors not one. Goodman.”  _ Webby offered, but Hannah didn’t understand.

John, however, did. “Yes, exactly. President Goodman entered the Black and White to negotiate with Wiggly, a futile effort I now see… I went in to rescue him, but entered without a protective suit. I should have been absorbed into the Black and White. I still don’t know how I survived, but seeing as how I am tethered to you, Hannah, I cannot return to P.E.I.P. headquarters. I cannot leave the Black and White at all.”

Hannah nodded. “Sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault, but thank you.”

Hannah heard a noise beside her again. She looked, and once again it was Lex, but something seemed wrong. She was fidgeting, sweating, and looked worried.

Hannah put a hand on Lex’s, which was then smacked away. Hannah saw tears running down Lex’s face, and she tossed and turned, muttering something that Hannah couldn’t hear.

“Lexie…” Hannah reached out again, and Lex shot up, eyes wide.

“Ethan!” She choked out, holding her arms to her chest.

Hannah gently set her hand on Lex’s arm, and she flinched before looking at her younger sister. Hannah saw thoughts and emotions flash through Lex’s eyes before she detensed, and smiled weakly. “Hey Banana,” she cleared her throat. “Wow, you got up way before me, huh? All dressed and everything.”

Hannah wasn’t sure what to say. She  _ saw  _ Ethan die, and it was terrible. She didn’t like to think about it. But Hannah, with a bit of help from Becky and Tom, had to be the one to break the news to Lex.

As Emma was leading everyone out of the mall to the Professor’s house, Lex stopped in a panic, realizing that, in the chaos, she had forgotten about Ethan, much to her guilt and anxiety. Tom had to hold her to stop her from running back into the burning mall as Hannah and Becky told her that they saw Ethan being beaten to death by followers of Wiggly, thinking he had a doll. Tom ended up carrying Lex most of the way to the Professor’s house. 

Hannah had nightmares about Ethan, too. But he was  _ Lex’s  _ boyfriend. He helped her so much. And Lex had gone hours without even knowing that he was dead. Hannah knew she still felt very guilty that his body was left to burn in the mall. But she never had anything to say.

Hannah instead just pulled Lex towards her into a hug. They stayed there for several minutes, quietly mourning.

The rest of the day was quiet. Hannah didn’t find very many people around the house, which allowed her to have small conversations with Webby and John throughout the day. She saw Tim and Tom sitting in the medical center, playing guitar for Becky. She spotted Alice and Deb babysitting Peanuts for Ed while he was elsewhere. 

It wasn’t until dinner that everyone was together. The Professor and Emma arrived late, both furiously washing their hands. Once they sat down, it took a while before either spoke. 

“Me and Emma have been doing tests on the blue…” He trailed off, glancing at Hannah and Tim, “...slime. Produced by Ken and Carol.” No one asked for elaboration, but everyone was lending their ears. “I’m afraid to say that at the time of their deaths, they were no longer human, but had metamorphosed into a strange alien breed… They are not of our world.”

Hannah tuned the Professor’s explanation out, she had heard most, if not all of it, from John and Webby. Musical aliens from another dimension. How weird can it get.

As she got up to clear her plate, something caught her attention again. 

“We cannot keep the bodies with us, at risk of infection. Per Emma’s suggestion, we will be holding a funeral tomorrow morning.” 

Hannah peeked back in. “Funeral?”

The Professor nodded. “I thought it would be best to incinerate them immediately, but apparently that is cruel and inhumane, so we will be giving them as much of a proper funeral as we can.” 

“You’re insane.” Emma scoffed, getting up to clear her own plate. “It  _ is  _ cruel. Yeah, we didn’t know them that well, but it’s what’s right, yanno? Like, jeez.”

Hannah moved to the side so Emma could get in, the older woman nodding in thanks. Hannah snuck back to her spot at the table.

“Emma’s right.” Paul added, keeping his gaze on the table. “Mr. and Mrs. Davidson were good people, and so was Chris. They deserve to be buried.”

The table largely agreed, with only a few quiet dissents coming from Ted, and the conversation finished there. 

Hannah was woken abruptly the next morning to yelling and a gun pointed at her head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi there will be another chapter this week. maybe even today. wasnt updated at 4am today because i was up till almost 1am playing animal crossing hell yeah!


	4. Exodus

Hannah saw only the barrel of the gun before hiding under the covers, trembling. She whispered, curling up, for help from Webby and John.

The two voices were frantic, and together they were so loud Hannah could hear nothing else, and she could barely register any of it. From what she could tell, John was directing her on how to fight back and get away, and Webby was repeatedly yelling something. There were other voices, shouting and arguing and Hannah couldn’t make sense of it.

As she lay, awaiting death, Hannah’s mind dragged her back to things she wanted to forget. Hiding with Lex in closets and under beds. Hiding by herself under sinks and in cabinets while Lex tried and failed to calm their mother down. The one time Ethan got involved and she hid in his trunk all night. 

As she relived the memories, Hannah cried. The familiar feeling of being unable to breathe consumed her, as she panicked and sobbed.

After what felt like an eternity, Hannah faintly registered a hand on her shoulder. Webby had stopped yelling, everything felt quiet. She heard John whisper, “Hannah, you’re safe, for now. You need to get moving.”

“Don’t want too.” She croaked out. “Bad. Mom. Hide. Lexie…”

“Hannah,” she heard Lex’s quiet voice. “Mom isn’t here. You’re going to be okay. Look at me, Banana, c’mon.”

Hannah forced her eyes open. Instead of the gun, she saw Lex’s face, worried, but happy to have Hannah safe. Hannah leaned up and pulled Lex into a firm hug, silently crying into her shoulder.

When Hannah was calmer and finally let go of Lex, she looked around the room. All the kids were still present, as well as the Professor, who was standing by the door, holding a gun.

Her and the Professor made eye contact, and she found herself glaring at him. “Why?!” She didn’t intend to be so loud or forceful, but decided she didn’t care. “You were going to shoot me!”

He broke their staring contest by looking down to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

Hannah huffed and Lex growled. “I can’t believe you would come in here ready to fucking  _ shoot us— _ ”

“I was  _ not  _ going to shoot you!” The Professor shouted. “We don’t know who may have been infected!”

“And to find out,” Deb argued, keeping Alice and Tim behind her, “you decided to point a  _ gun  _ at a  _ twelve year old?” _

“They mentioned her  _ by name.  _ Of  _ course  _ I would assume that she’s with them!”

Hannah covered her ears. “Don’t know! Be quiet!”

Everyone had quieted down. Lex ran her fingers through Hannah’s hair, and handed her the warrior’s hat, which Hannah held to her chest. “Banana, we gotta find everyone and stay together, okay. Those aliens being weird, we were gonna have a funeral? They’re gone, they might come for us, and we have to get somewhere safe. You okay to go?”

“Shit.” John whispered. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I forgot to tell you. These aliens are incredibly difficult to kill. You must destroy them entirely in order to prevent them from coming back.”

_ “Unhelpful! Dangerous! John!! _ ” Webby yelled, irritated and worried.

Hannah stood, and put on the hat. “C’mon. Find them.”

Lex stood with her. “Yes, Hidgens said he already knows where Emma and Paul are—”

“No.” Hannah interrupted. “Find Ken and Carol.”

The Professor nodded. “That’s what I was planning. We must apprehend and destroy them.”

“What happened to a funeral for them?” Alice piped up from behind Deb. 

“Funerals are for humans.” The Professor argued. “They are no longer human.”

Hannah pushed past the Professor and into the hallway, with him and Lex following close behind. Alice, Deb, and Tim reluctantly followed as well.

The group stayed mostly silent as they searched, gaining a few more people along the way; namely, Paul, Emma, Ed (and Peanuts), and Oliver.

Once they got to the medical center, where they found Tom and Becky, the group locked the doors and tried to make a plan of action.

“They wouldn’t have left the building, right?” Tom asked. “We should find them and take them out now, before someone else gets hurt.”

“I agree, Tom.” The Professor nodded at him, pacing around the room. “But who would go? It’s a bad idea to leave people here. We can’t take the children. And not all of our group is here. It’s possible the remaining people have already been infected.”

“Who are we missing?” Lex askex, looking around the room.

“My dad, for one.” Alice said, squeezing Deb’s hand.

“And Charlotte and Ted, too.” Paul added. “I think those three are the only ones now…”

“Five murderous, musical aliens, versus six adults, only three that have experience with weapons, and six children.” The Professor sighed.

“Those sound like pretty good odds to me.” Tom argued.

“Tom, you haven’t seen them in action.” The Professor stopped his pacing to gesture at Tom. “If my theories are correct, then just one of them could easily rip open a human’s stomach! Tear out their guts and make them part of the Hive!”

Tim held tighter to his father’s arm, and Tom responded by pulling his son closer. The Professor lowered his volume and overall toned himself down. 

“All I’m saying is it’ll be dangerous. We don’t know what we’ll find.” He explained, tense.

After a moment of silence, Becky stood up. “It’s worth it. We can’t lose more people.”

“I agree.” Deb joins her, and Alice also pops up. “I know Bill doesn’t like me. But he’s a good man, and I don’t want him to die like this.” Her speech prompted Alice to hug her from behind.

Pretty much everyone else concurred, and the Professor sighed. “Alright. We don’t have enough weapons for everyone. I propose that me, Tom, and Becky arm ourselves and go alien hunting, as we are the only ones who have experience with guns.” Just as people were nodding in agreement, he continued, “The problem with that is the risk. Becky is our only doctor, Tom is a father, and both are some of our best defenses. Not to toot my own horn, but I believe I am rather valuable as well—”

“Shut up, I’ll go.” Lex interrupted. “I can use a gun. I’ll take Becky’s place.”

“No, no.” Becky stepped up to her. “You shouldn’t go. And if you do go, you should take Tom’s place. He has a kid, I don’t. But you shouldn’t go at all, you have Hannah to watch over.”

Lex grumbled, looking at Hannah, before deciding not to argue any further.

Eventually, it was agreed that the Professor would go with Emma and Becky, a decent compromise. After they were gone for half an hour, Hannah got impatient.

“What’s happening?” She whispered, hoping for a clear response from either Webby or John.

It took a long time for either to speak up.  _ “Exodus.”  _ Was all she got from Webby. Hannah sighed, unsure of what it meant.

Seeming to sense her confusion, John clarified. “She means leave. You have to leave, Hannah. Go find them.”

“Safe?” She whispered, watching the room to see if anyone would notice her leaving. 

“It will be dangerous. But you should be safe.”

Hannah took a deep breath. “Okay.” And with a final look around the room, she slipped out the door.

In the hall, she headed towards where the Professor said they would be going; upstairs, to the other bedrooms.

Upon first arriving at the Professor’s house, Paul, Ted, and Bill all shared a room, while Charlotte shared a room with Emma and Becky. The children were in one room, and Oliver shared his with Chris, Ed, and Peanuts (much to Oliver’s disdain). Tom shared a room with Ken and Carol, which he also complained of.

It had only been a couple of days since Chris, Ken, and Carol’s deaths, but the rooms were already being re-arranged. Tom and Becky had taken to meeting in the room he once shared with Ken and Carol, and Ted and Charlotte had been sneaking into each other's rooms often, usually resulting in Emma and/or Paul replacing them. Bill, in order to avoid the couples, took Chris's place with Oliver and Ed.

Since Emma and Paul were found together outside the bedrooms, and Tom and Becky were down in the medical center, Hannah was willing to bet that Ted and Charlotte would be together, either in Charlotte’s room or Ted’s. If in Ted’s room, Bill would likely be there as well.

The only problem was that Hannah wasn’t sure whose rooms were whose. There were no signs, and so her only hope would be if she spotted the Professor and the others who went looking for everyone.

Hannah was choosing to trust John, something she was still unused to doing, after doing her best to ignore him for almost a month, and could do nothing more than hope it was the right decision.

As she headed up the stairs, Hannah heard footsteps behind her, and whipped around, her unbraided hair whipping her in the face.

Frozen before her was Tim, doing his best to silently follow her up the stairs.

“Go back.” She told him, trying to act like a big sister.

He frowned. “ _ You  _ snuck out. Why can’t I?”

“I’m older. I know what I’m doing.”

Tim crossed his arms. “You never come up here. Do you even know where dad’s room is?”

Hannah paused, frowning, before shaking her head. Tim walked up the stairs to where she was. “I’ll show you. We’ll get them back. We’ll be like spies!” He noticed his own excitement at his last statement and quieted down. “Secret agents. Move quietly.”

John hummed. “He has the right idea. Stay close to the walls, be prepared to run if you need too, and make as little noise as possible.”

Hannah nodded in response and the two kids crept off down the hall.

After some searching, the two found a trail of blood. It wasn’t regular blood however; it was much more gooey and slimy, as well as a bright neon-blue. It led down a hallway, and the closer they got, the more yelling Hannah and Tim could hear. As they saw it led to a closed door, Hannah paused and listened. Underneath the yelling, she could also hear singing.

“They’re in there.” She pointed to the door. Tim stepped forward and she stopped him. “Dangerous. Ready to run, okay?”

Tim nodded, and they opened the door as quietly as they could.

Inside was Ken and Carol, dancing together and singing what Hannah thought sounded like a very cheesy love song. Further back in the room, hiding behind a bed, was Ted, Bill, and Charlotte, all seemingly fine. Ted seemed to be enjoying the singing, but still just as frightened as the other two.

Hannah scoured her brain for a plan, but unfortunately, she wasn’t fast enough. It only took a few moments for Bill to spot the two children and call their names in shock. Then, everyone’s attention was on them.

Ken and Carol, gunshot wounds still visible and leaking, stopped singing and focused solely on Hannah.

“Hannah Foster,” they spoke in unison, matching grins on their faces. “the Prophet of Hatchetfield. It is of no surprise that you are the cause of our continued misery.” The two marched towards the door, and Hannah shoved Tim as she backed away, hoping he would get the message and run. 

“You and Paul were always such headaches. So many thoughts and memories. Too much, even for us!” The two lunged at Hannah, and she turned and ran back the way she came, quickly catching up with Tim and dragging him along.

As they ran, Hannah realized a handful of things.

One, they couldn’t go back to the medical center. Tom was the only armed person there, he surely wouldn’t be able to keep the two of them down for long enough.

Two, Ken and Carol had begun singing again, this time a more high-stakes chase song, but underneath that, Hannah thought she heard more footsteps than people.

As they reached the bottom floor, a gunshot rang out, along with yelling voices. Tim was panicking, and Hannah, in a split second decision, ran for the front door. The aliens were chasing  _ her _ . Surely, they would follow her out of the house.

There were more gunshots, but the singing continued. Hannah slammed against the door, glancing over her shoulder and she struggled to open it. The aliens were closing in, and she opened the door, all but falling through it. Barely catching herself, she ran around the corner of the building.

As she again looked over her shoulder, hoping to catch her breath, Hannah saw two things she really didn’t want to see. 

One, Ken and Carol were still following, looking angry and with a couple more bullet holes.

Two, Tim was still with her. His eyes were wide with terror as he looked to her for a solution.

Hannah’s solution, unfortunately, was to keep running.

The Professor’s house was on a hill, and Hannah’s panic-ridden brain thought the only solution was to run down it, towards town. 

As she dragged Tim with her, he couldn’t quite keep up, and tripped, causing Hannah to trip, and both of them tumbled down the hill. Mixed in with their own sounds of hurt and distress, they heard more gunshots coming from the house.

Finally, they came to the base of the hill. Hannah got up, pulled Tim up, and ran to a patch of bushes to hide and finally catch a break. The two children panted, keeping their heads low and huddling together. After a bit, Hannah peeked over the bushes. There was no one in sight.

With a sigh, she sat back down. “Safe… but not really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told ya there'd be another chapter. we gettin into it now lads! also the stuff about how to kill the infected comes from nick lang's twitter i believe, yeehaw


	5. Play

Tim was shaking, frantically rubbing tears out of his eyes. “We’re stuck out here, forever, we’re gonna die, my leg hurts, I can’t do this!”

Hannah felt guilty, curling up on herself. She was so caught up in getting the both of them away from the infected, she hadn’t let go of Tim before running outside. Instead of a sacrifice, she had doomed them both.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Tim? I’m really sorry. Should’ve let go…” She tried to touch him gently, to calm him down, despite not wanting to be touched herself at the moment.

Tim tried to take deep breaths, surely mimicking his father when  _ he  _ had panic attacks, and looked up at her, eyes still a bit watery. “I-It’s okay. I wo-would’ve died if you had l-let go, probably.”

Hannah nodded slowly, not really believing it. “Still sorry. Stuck out here…” She looked around, the clouds blocking the sun turning everything grey. “Not good.”

“You should head back up the hill,” came John’s voice, “get back inside as soon as possible.”

“Let us in?” Hannah asked, forgetting for a moment that John wasn’t physically there.

Tim looked at her. “You me-mean the adults? Maybe. D-Dad would. Your si-sister, too. Right?”

She looked at him, silent and worried.

“They’ll let you in, Hannah.” John reassured. “They’ve surely noticed by now that you’re missing.”

_ “Careful.”  _ Webby added, voice stern.  _ “Weapons. Infected.”  _ She imitated the sound of a gunshot and Hannah got the picture.

“Gotta be careful.” She told Tim, feeling a little more hopeful. “If the Professor thinks we’re zombies, he won’t let us in.” And she too, made a gunshot noise that caused Tim to flinch. She mumbled an apology and didn’t feel like talking anymore.

The two sat in silence for another moment before Tim spoke up. “Is it safe to go back up the hill? What if the Davidson’s are still there?”

Hannah frowned. The possibility of them being there was high, especially if what John said about them needing to be destroyed completely was true. Even if they were shot, it was still risky; they had come back once, they could probably come back again.

Eventually, she sighed. “Have too. We have too. Just… be careful. Run if it’s dangerous. Capiche?”

Tim nodded. “Okay.”

Ethan had taught Hannah the word capiche. It was a good word. She liked the sound of it. She fought back a sigh; she really missed Ethan. He would help them.

But Ethan wasn’t here, and Hannah had to save Tim and herself on her own, with some guidance from Webby and John, of course.

She stood, and Tim stood with her, but only for a moment. He let out a small cry of pain and satg back down. Hannah kneeled beside him. “Hurt? A-Are you hurt?”

Tim shrugged. “My leg hurts, b-but I just thought it was because we rolled down the hill…”

Hannah looked at his leg, gently rolling up his pants. It didn’t take too long to find the problem: his ankle was swollen and bruising quickly. Hannah hovered her hands over it, not sure of what to do.

“It’s likely sprained.” John told her. “He needs to get home and rest. Avoid putting weight on it.”

_ “Becky Barnes.”  _ Webby added.

“Yes, get him to Becky.” John agreed. There was a pause, and then his voice came again, softer. “You can do this, Hannah. We know you can.”

She took a deep breath to calm herself and stood again, offering a hand to Tim, which he took. She helped him up and told him to stay off his hurt foot as much as possible. Slinging one of his arms around her shoulder, like she saw in movies, the two slowly began their journey back up the hill.

Hannah did her best to keep them near the trees and bushes, so they could easily hide if they needed too, but there were times where it was too thick or thorny to navigate, and they had to walk in the street, out in the open.

Tim was focused on keeping off his hurt foot, not wanting to hurt himself more. Hannah supported him, but with the uphill climb, it was rather exhausting. The wind kept blowing her still unbraided hair into her face and mouth, distracting and occasionally blinding her.

When the two could finally see the Professor’s house again, they agreed to take a short break and rest. There was a fallen tree that they sat behind, watching the clouds pass through the grey sky of Hatchetfield.

Hannah took a moment to look down the hill. They were high enough up by now that they could see most of the town. Apartments, houses, schools, the burned-down mall, and the Old Starlight Theater. Further back, Hannah could just barely make out the remains of the Nantucket Bridge. 

It had been destroyed that fateful night. Nobody was sure if the rest of the country had survived Black Friday at all. With the bridge and phone lines down, they had no way of knowing.

Hannah looked back up at the sky. It would be lonely, to be the last people on the planet. She hoped that somewhere, there were more survivors.

“Hannah?” Tim whispered, looking over at her. “Can I ask you something?”

Hannah turned away from the desolate town to face Tim and nodded.

“Um. I guess I just wanted to ask what your family was like. Earlier, in the bedroom, Lex was telling you that your mom wasn’t here, and…” He trailed off.

Hannah pulled at her shirt and nodded again. “Mom… bad. She hurt me. Hurt Lexie. Hurt Ethan, once.” Hannah shook her head, blinking tears out of her eyes. “Yeah, she’s bad.”

Tim frowned. “I’m sorry. Um, couldn’t your dad help?”

“Dad’s gone. Don’t remember him.” She sighed. “Lexie does. Doesn’t like talking about him.”

“Oh…” Tim pulled up some grass and rolled it between his fingers. “Sorry for asking.”

“No need.” There was a moment of tense silence before Hannah asked, “Your dad’s good. Your mom…?”

Tim looked away. “She’s gone. But, she was very good. The best! I…” He trailed off. “I miss her, a lot. But, weirdly… I’m glad she’s not here for this. I wouldn’t want anyone to be here for this, you know?”

Hannah nodded. “End of the world. Bad place for anyone.” She looked once more to the clouds, and saw the sun shining behind them, making the sky a little less grey. “Your dad loves you.”

“I know.”

“Wiggly…” Hannah paused, unsure how to word what happened. “Took advantage. All Tom wanted was you to be happy.”

Tim nodded. “I’m glad I still have him.”

“Good dad.” Hannah found herself wishing to know her own father. Lex assured her that he wasn’t a good person, but something in Hannah wanted to believe otherwise.

Deep down, she knew what she really wanted. She wanted someone who loved and cared for her like Tom did for Tim, or Bill for Alice.

_ “Webby cares.”  _ The spider assured. 

“I’m sure she knows.” Said John, a somber sigh in his voice. “But it’s not the same thing.”

When Webby spoke again, her voice was tense.  _ “Move. Home. Apotheosis.” _

Hannah sat up and looked around. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, but she heard something in the silent street.

“Footsteps.” Tim whispered, having heard them too. He looked at Hannah. “Should we go? Or hide? What do we do?”

_ “Go!”  _ Webby pressured.

“Wait.” John interrupted. “It might be someone from the house coming to look for you. They could help with Tim.”

“No arguing.” Hannah whispered, silencing the two voices before either went further.

Silently, she pondered the options. It was unlikely that it was someone from the house. But it also might not be an infected. And if it was, they could surely outrun her and Tim. It would be best to hide.

She crouched down, gesturing for Tim to do the same. Hidden by the tree trunk and weeds, Hannah waited for the footsteps to pass, occasionally sneaking glances out at the street.

After a tense few minutes, Hannah saw the source of the footsteps. There was a woman, around Bill’s age, walking through the empty streets. Her curly brown hair was unkempt, and her clothing was torn and dirty. She walked slowly, tiredly, up the hill.

Hannah moved to Tim’s side. “Lady walking.”

“Is she an alien?” Tim whispered, louder than she would’ve liked.

Hannah shrugged. She couldn’t tell. John had told her it was hard to tell the difference, and it was surely even harder from further away.

As she put a hand on the tree trunk, intending to peek over again, it rolled slightly, shifting the grass and weeds around them.

A moment later, a woman’s voice called out. “Hello? Is someone there?”

Tim’s eyes widened and he looked at Hannah. She looked back at him, confused.

The woman called again, and the footsteps got closer. “Hello? There was a noise here just a moment ago…”

Tim’s eyes were watering. “Mom…” He whispered, and Hannah’s own eyes shot open.

“What?” Came John’s voice.

Hannah repeated, louder, “What?”

The footsteps stopped and the two children looked up. The woman was standing above them. “There  _ was  _ someone here. Are you lost, too?”

Tim sat up, almost standing but instead choosing to kneel, grinning at the woman, tears running down his face. “Mom! You’re back! How?”

He reached over the trunk to hug her, and the woman looked surprised, before smiling gently and hugging Tim back.

“Tim… it hasn’t been that long. I just saw you, before we got seperated.” She assured him.

Tim didn’t reply, just continuing to cry against his mother’s stomach.

She then looked to Hannah, tilting her head slightly. “And who might you be?”

Hannah looked between Tim and his mother cautiously. “...Hannah.”

She nodded with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Hannah. I’m Jane.”

Hannah frowned at her before looking back at the house on the hill. “Need to get back.”

“Back?” Jane followed Hannah’s line of sight. “Oh.. is that where you’re staying? Who else is there?”

Tim pulled away enough to be heard. “Dad is! And a bunch of others! It’s a Professor’s house, it’s pretty cool. Dad’s been teaching me guitar, and me and Hannah are learning all sorts of card games from the older kids. I hurt my leg, but there’s a doctor there, so we need to get back. You’re coming with us, right?”

Jane looked back down at Tim before smiling and squeezing his shoulders. “Of course. But I have a game to teach you first. And it’ll make your leg feel better!”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Mom…” He whined. “I’m not a little kid. Games don’t heal things. And my leg is  _ really _ hurt.”

She shook her head. “Now, now. I’m sure it’ll help. Hannah can play too! Now… You in or you out?”

Tim smiled, radianting pure joy. “Alright. How do you play?”

Jane smiled wide. “Open your mouth and say ‘ah.’”

“Are we playing doctor?” He giggled, but did as he was told. Every muscle in Hannah’s body was tensed.

“Keep doing that.” Jane looked to Hannah with the same grin, and her heart skipped a beat. She had seen that smile before, on Ken and Carol.

Blue began leaking out of Jane’s mouth, between her teeth, and dripping down her chin, and Hannah screamed.

Tim closed his mouth and opened his eyes, looking from Hannah to Jane, and then himself screamed, trying to get away.

Jane held tight to Tim’s shoulders. “No…” She smiled, almost singing the word. “That’s not how you play, kids.”

Tim struggled against her, but Jane’s grip stayed strong. He called out to Hannah for help. She looked around for anything she could use to get Jane away from Tim.

“8 o’clock!” John ordered.

“What?!” Hannah looked up. It was likely barely noon.

He sighed, frustrated. “To your left, Hannah! On the ground!”

She looked where he pointed and sure enough, there was a rust-covered crowbar hidden beneath layers of weeds. Hannah dug it up and did her best to ignore the awful texture.

Jane had Tim pinned to the tree trunk, blue still leaking out of her mouth. He sobbed, begging his mom to snap out of it.

Hannah held the crowbar like a baseball bat. She was pretty sure it was impossible for Jane to stop.

With a roar, Hannah hit Jane in the face with the crowbar, and then again in her upper chest. Pulling back from the second hit, small chunks of flesh were pulled off, bleeding blue.

Jane had stumbled back but was still standing, and in a moment of bravery, Hannah rushed forwards and hit her a third time, in the stomach, and then a fourth in the same spot, tearing open a section of her flesh, blue blood and a bit of guts spilling out.

Jane howled out in pain, and Hannah dropped the crowbar to help Tim up and get the two of them out of there.

Despite running up the hill as fast as they could manage, it wasn’t long before they heard a haunting song in pursuit of them.

“ _ Do you want to play with me? _

_ Lovely girl, darling boy _

_ Do you want some candy? _

_ My lovely girl, my darling boy _

_ Let’s play some games _

_ Let’s play some games, today _

_ Funny games _

_ Some funny games today…” _

Tim looked horrified. “I.. I didn’t know.. she could sing that good!” He explained between breaths.

“It’s not her singing.” John explained. “It’s the alien. I’m sorry, you should’ve listened to Webby. This is my fault.”

“No!” Hannah shouted. “Not your fault! Mine. Should’ve known..”

Tim glanced at her. “Webby told you about this?”

“A little.”

The singing resumed, but sounded slower, like a record slowly stopping. 

_ “Do you want to play with me? _

_ Lovely girl, darling boy _

_ Do you want some candy? _

_ My lovely girl, my darling boy…” _

As Jane sang, Hannah slowed slightly, remembering something. She had heard this song before. But where? Her mind brought her to a time and a place. Black Friday. The play structure. Tom and Becky were looking for her, looking for Wiggly. And they sang, rather beautifully. But they weren’t blue. They didn’t look infected. They were singing for the fun of it, perhaps?

Tim tripping slightly brought Hannah back into reality. That had never happened. Tom and Becky had tried to lure her out that day, yes, but they weren’t singing. When had that happened?

With a growl, Hannah focused on getting up the hill and moving faster. She could think about it later.

They were nearing the top and Hannah spotted a shed. Glancing behind her, she couldn’t see Jane, and could barely hear her. She steered Tim towards the shed and bolted, shutting the door behind them.

The shed was dark and cramped, the only light coming through the gaps in the wood from years without upkeep. The two children held their breath as they listened for Jane.

Her voice got closer, but also weaker. Eventually it stopped, and Hannah strained her ears for footsteps. After a long moment of silence, she heard some heading away from the shed. Sparing a peep through one of the larger gaps, Hannah saw Jane stumbling out of sight, leaving a trail of blue blood.

Once she was out of sight for long enough, Hannah finally felt like she could breathe and opened the door, gesturing for Tim to come closer so she could support him again.

“Almost there. Home stretch. Stay safe.” She whispered, and he nodded, wiping sweat and tears off his face.

Quietly, keeping a steady pace, they headed up the hill.

Almost there,  _ they could see the door,  _ Hannah pulled Tim into some bushes. They were thorny, and scratched their skins, but made good cover.

Tim tried to look through the bushes. “Is… Is she back? Or is it the Davidsons? What’s going on?”

Hannah peered over the top of the bushes at the two fighting figures she saw, just a few yards from the Professor’s windowless house.

“Ethan.” She breathed.

“Who?” Tim asked, trying again to get a better look.

The two figures came closer, became clearer, and Hannah once again whispered, “Ethan.”

Upon closer examination, Hannah found that it wasn’t just Ethan. The person he was fighting was  _ also  _ Ethan. She furrowed her brow. How were there two? And why were they fighting? The infected didn’t seem to fight eachother.

As the fight got closer, Hannah could hear it. Ethan was singing. He always had a nice voice, but something about it was more sinister this time.

“ _ Like looking in a mirror _

_ Do you like what you see? _

_ Know that no matter where you go _

_ You’ll never escape me!” _

Unlike with Jane’s song, Hannah didn’t recognize this one, and clearly, neither did the other Ethan.

“Dude, what the fuck are you talking about? Shut up and stop singing, I do  _ not  _ sound that good.” He had a knife, but was trying to keep his distance.

The singing Ethan was unarmed, at least, unarmed in the usual way. As he turned in Hannah’s direction, she could see the blue dripping from his mouth as he sang. 

_ “You and I, we share a soul _

_ Two bodies, many minds _

_ There is nothing left to fear _

_ Step forward, join the Hive!” _

“No thanks.” The not singing Ethan took a step back, towards where Hannah and Tim were. “I’m allergic to bees.”

With a frustrated sigh, the singing Ethan stood up straight, looking rather disappointed. “You’re supposed to sing back, you know.” He said.

“Ohhh.” The not singing Ethan leaned back before straightening up. “Why didn’t you say so? Oh, boy, what’s a song. Uh, how about Greased Lightning?” Dancing in place, Ethan sang poorly. “Greased lightning, goooo, greased lightning!”

“Stop. Please.” The singing Ethan was exasperated. “You sound awful.”

“Aw, c’mon now man, I was just gettin’ into it! Sorry I ain’t as good a singer as you, sheesh.”

_ “Door. Home. Becky.”  _ Webby gained Hannah’s attention. It was important to get Tim to safety as soon as possible.

“Wait.” John said, once again. After the near-catastrophe with Jane, Hannah really didn’t want to listen to him anymore. It wasn’t his fault, but she knew whatever his idea was would tempt her. “Hannah, I think the one with his back to you is not infected. I’m not sure how it’s possible for there to be two in the same place, but…” He trailed off.

Webby huffed.  _ “Bad blood. Fire. Black Friday.” _

Hannah nodded, a wave of sadness coming over her. “Ethan died.” She whispered.

“But he’s here now. Leaving him behind would kill him again.” He mentioned, pausing at the end. “I shouldn’t be trying to guilt trip you. Apologies. They’re distracted with eachother, you should be able to get to the house easily. Just be quick and quiet.”

_ “John right.”  _ Webby agreed.  _ “For once.”  _ He didn’t respond to that.

Hannah kept her eyes on the bickering Ethans. It was the best course of action to leave, and they could do it. But... she didn’t want Ethan to die again. He had died such a horrible death that night, and it was to protect  _ her. _ Regardless of whether or not this was the same Ethan, she owed it to him.

Looking around, Hannah found a rock, small enough to throw, but large enough to do some damage. She picked it up, moved out from behind the bushes, and threw it at the singing Ethan.

It hit him in the side, causing him to fall over. The not singing Ethan looked behind him, knife at the ready. He almost dropped it when he saw Hannah.

“Hannah?” He stepped forward, clearly shocked. “What are ya doin’ here, kid? Where’s your sister? Wait.” He stepped back. “You ain’t gonna start singing, right?”

Hannah shook her head no, also trying to shake the tears out of her eyes. “Inside. Hurry.”

Hannah went back to the bushes to help Tim up, who was very wary of Ethan, and Ethan looked back at his musical doppelganger.

The singing Ethan had stood back up and looked angry. He made eye contact with Hannah and grinned the same wide grin all of the infected had. “Hannah Foster, prophet of Hatchetfield. You have defied us twice now. We will not let you get away again!”

Hannah stood in front of Tim, hoping to protect him, as the singing Ethan dashed towards her.

Before he could attack her, he was on the ground. The not singing Ethan had tackled him.

Glancing at Hannah he smiled weakly. “Close your eyes, Banana.”

She did as she was told, and heard a sickening crack, and the sounds of the struggle ended. Then there were footsteps, and a hand on her shoulder. “You can open ‘em now, kiddo.”

Hesitantly, Hannah opened her eyes and was met with Ethan’s kind face, unbloodied, unbeaten, and certainly no blue slime dripping from his mouth. She tried to look around, but he stopped her. 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna see the other guy. At least he’ll finally shut up, huh?” Ethan stood and offered a hand. “You’re stayin’ at this place, right? I was gonna try and break in when I found that guy. Can I have your permission to stay?”

Hannah looked at him carefully for a long moment before finally nodding. “Be careful. Professor doesn’t like people coming back.”

Ethan was confused, but didn’t ask any further. He helped Hannah with Tim, introducing himself in the process, and they walked to the door without any further problems.

They rang the doorbell and knocked loudly. Finally, a voice from the other side. Hannah recognized it as the Professor’s.

“Who’s there?! We’re armed, so don’t you try anything!”

Ethan looked down at Hannah, who was holding his hand. “You sure they’re gonna let us in, Banana?”

Hannah nodded. “Hannah. Tim.” She paused. “Ethan.”

There were whispers on the other side of the door. Finally, the Professor’s voice returned. “Prove you’re human!”

“What?” Ethan laughed. “Why? How would we even do that?”

“Musical aliens.” Hannah explained to Ethan. “...Sing.”

Ethan was clearly confused and tired of all of this. Nonetheless he shrugged and once again attempted to sing Greased Lightning. The Professor cut him off very quickly.

“That was horrible, whoever you are. Hannah, Tim, you can’t come in until we know you’re human.”

Tim cleared his throat and sang the Spongebob theme song, face red as he stumbled over the words. Ethan did his best not to laugh at the nine-year-old.

“Alright.” Came the Professor’s response. “Hannah?”

Hannah froze. Not only could she not think of a song, Lex and Ethan had always told her she was a good singer. She was terrified to think she wouldn’t be let in because of that.

Ethan squeezed her hand. “Hey. Look at me.” She looked up at his curly hair, and squeezed his hand back. “I won’t go in without you. Okay?”

Hannah nodded. She sang, quietly, the beginning of Moana. She stopped herself early, not wanting to make herself look worse.

The Professor was quiet for a long moment. Apparently too long for Ethan’s liking, as he knocked harshly on the door. “Hey! She proved herself, now let us in!”

There was a bit of commotion on the other side of the door, which grew louder and closer. In the chaos, Hannah could hear Lex’s voice, as well as Tom’s.

Finally, the door opened. Standing with her hand on the doorknob was Lex. When Hannah saw her, she immediately became aware of how tired she was, how scared she had been. Tears streaming down her face, she let go of Ethan’s hand and jumped into Lex’s arms.

They held eachother close for a long time. A hand on Lex’s shoulder gently asked her to move so they could get to Tim and help him, and they finally moved.

Once everyone was inside, the door was shut and locked. Lex hugged Hannah tightly again before letting go, hands on Hannah’s shoulders. “Never, I mean  _ never  _ sneak out again. I don’t care if Webby said to do it, I don’t care if Hidgens said to,  _ never ever  _ leave without telling me. Got it?”

Hannah nodded vigorously. She didn’t plan on sneaking out again, ever.

Lex smiled, clearly relieved, and then looked up. Her face dropped, and Hannah looked to see Ethan standing behind her. He looked worried.

“Lex?” He asked, trying to smile. “What’s wrong? Ya look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lex pulled Hannah behind her. “How are you alive.”

Ethan’s confusion only grew. “Uh, I don’t really know. Heart pumps blood, lungs breathe air, brain does… things-”

“No.” Lex interrupted, voice harsh. “How are you  _ alive. _ ”

“I. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Hannah saw you die. So did Tom and Becky. Even if you fooled them, you would’ve burned up in the fire.  _ How are you alive. _ ”

Hannah rubbed her eyes. Clearly, the day was not done being exhausting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, Jane Perkins/Houston is played by Meredith Stepien. I love her......  
> Anyway yeah long boi this time owo. Welcome back, ethan!  
> OH and im gonna post infected!ethan's song to my tumblr later. will update with a link  
> UPDATE: HERE'S THE LINK TO THE SONG (Musical Doppelganger) https://maddstermind.tumblr.com/post/622428566698754048/casually-records-a-song-i-made-for-a-fic-at  
> sorry that my face is in it lmao tumblr is a bitch about audio files so i said fuck it and made it a video


	6. Connection

Hannah watched as Lex slowly fell apart as she tried to piece together that Ethan was alive and well in front of her, and Hannah found herself wondering the same thing. She was certain he wasn’t infected, he wouldn’t have been able to pass the Professor’s singing test if he had, but she was certain Ethan was dead. She was  _ there _ .

The universe didn’t allow her to dwell on it for too long, as Ethan tried to take Lex’s hand and she shoved him to the ground before crumpling herself. All those remaining in the front room rushed to her side, and Hannah had to fight to stay near her sister.

Lex was breathing quickly and pushing away anyone who touched her or got too close. Hannah recognized her panic attack right away, and tried to usher the small group away from Lex as to not overwhelm her, to no avail.

Ed and Emma were at Lex’s side, trying and failing to calm her down, with Paul hovering nearby. The Professor was loudly threatening Ethan, who was arguing back, clearly growing more frustrated by the second. In the chaos of it all, Lex was only growing more panicked, and Hannah felt herself getting there as well.

Unsure of what else she could do, Hannah whispered an apology to Lex before yelling so loud she made herself flinch. She felt even worse when she saw Lex curl up on herself even more. On the bright side, it caught everyone’s attention. With all eyes on her, Hannah searched for something to say.

“Leave Lexie alone. It’s too loud. Argue somewhere else.” She stayed quiet, and didn’t look away from Lex.

She saw the Professor lower his gun in her peripheral vision. His voice was quiet as he kneeled beside Hannah and Lex. “I’m sorry, we should’ve known better. Should we take Lex to the medical center?”

Hannah gestured for him to back up, and he complied. Gently, Hannah offered her hand to Lex. “Lexie, breathe, remember?”

Lex looked at Hannah’s hand, a vague recognition in her eyes. She shook her head. “No, please. I-I can’t do this, I can’t go through this, please, God…” 

Hannah hovered, her worry growing. Usually, Hannah or Ethan could pull Lex out of a spiral pretty quick, even though Hannah knew that Lex was never fully okay for a while afterwards.

Before she could do anything more, Hannah felt something in her mind, and in her chest. A tiny opening, being pulled open and reached through. Hannah froze, not sure what to do, until she heard a distant, echoing voice, calling Lex’s name.

Lex took a deep breath and nearly fell backwards, gasping and staring at the wall, and Hannah felt the gap close, taking a deep breath herself.

Lex was sputtering, clearly still not fully out of her spiral. “I- Wha- Wh-Where’d he go?”

Paul kneeled beside Lex, careful to keep his distance. “Lex, deep breaths. Who are you looking for? Ethan?”

Lex shook her head, trying to follow Paul’s directions. “No, no, no. Th-The guy, the f-fucking soldier, with the be-beard!”

“Tom?” Ed offered. “Him, Becky, and Tim went to the medical center.”

“Everyone’s here, Lex.” Paul added, voice soft. “Everyone’s safe.”

Hannah nodded, and Lex looked over at her, detensing slightly. “I… Okay. Yeah, r-right…”

“Do you want to go find Becky?” Paul asked her, hand still offered. She looked at it, suspicious. After a moment, she shakily takes it and nods. Paul stands and slowly helps her up, and him and Emma walk her out of the room, presumably to join Becky and the Houston’s in the medical center. Ed trailed out after them.

Hannah was about to follow when the Professor’s voice stopped her. “Hannah, can you stay a moment? I’d like to know how you found this young man here…”

Hannah turned to see that the Professor all but had Ethan by his collar, keeping him in the room. Hannah fiddled with her shirt. “Outside. Fighting.”

“Fighting who?”

“Ethan.”

“Yes, Ethan.” The Professor nodded, looking a little impatient. “Who was Ethan fighting?”

Hnnah frowned. “Fighting  _ Ethan. _ ”

“There was some weird clone of me who wouldn’t shut up.” Ethan explained. “Can I go see if Lex is okay, now?”

The Professor let go of Ethan, but continued to look between him and Hannah for another moment. “Hannah,” he begins, “this is the boy you, Becky, and Tom saw die on Black Friday, yes?”

Hannah nodded, and Ethan’s jaw dropped. He scoffed, fading into laughter. “Uh, I’m obviously not dead, Banana. Plus, Black Friday isn’t for another week, you should know that! We’ve been countin’ down the days, remember?”

Hannah began to shake her head, but then stopped and nodded, and then stopped completely. Yes, she remembered her, Ethan, and Lex counting down the days to when they’d be able to escape to California, which they found would be Black Friday thanks to Wiggly. But it had been nearly an entire month since that terrible day. And she was  _ certain  _ she saw Ethan die.

Ethan seemed confused and worried. “You… don’t remember?”

“I remember.” She explains, pulling on her braids. “...Today’s the 21st. December. December 21st.”

Again, Ethan was visibly shocked. He looked between Hannah and the Professor. “You’re kiddin’, right? I wasn’t passed out for a month, there’s no way.”

The Professor looked to Ethan for a long moment. “Ethan, how exactly did you get here?”

Ethan thought for a moment. “Uh, I was on my way to the mall to meet Lex and Hannah. And then there was this big, bright circle in an alley, so I went to go check it out, ‘cause I thought it was scrap metal and it could be good to use, and then next thing I know I’m tripping over a cat and falling against the circle. Or maybe into? When I looked around, I was in the alley, but the circle was gone and the whole mall was burnt down…”

Webby made a vibrating noise, Hannah thought it sounded a bit like humming, and spoke in a serious tone. “ _ Portal. Starlight. Apotheosis. _ ”

Hannah repeated Webby’s message, and it clicked a moment later. “Old Starlight Theater. Portal on the stage. Aliens came from there, Ethan came from another!”

The Professor nodded. “That is certainly how it sounds, Hannah. And it all adds together.” He walked in a circle around Ethan, examining him. “Dead in this universe, but not infected either. Doesn’t know the date. And if you came from the mall, you wouldn’t have passed the Starlight on your way here.”

Ethan looked like he was trying to piece everything together on his own. “Are you saying… I’m from another dimension?”

“Exactly, Ethan.” The Professor nodded, solemn. “And who knows what else came with you.”

“That isn’t the worry.” John spoke up, his voice strained. “The problem is we don’t know how many other portals there are. There are horrible things in the multiverse. The infected are already here…”

“ _ Don’t scare. _ ” Webby warned.

John made a strange noise. Hannah thought it sounded a little like how Lex did earlier, while she was having a panic attack. Concerned, Hannah whispered, “You okay?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He almost sounded distant. “I’ll be okay. Go help your sister, alright?”

Still unsure whether or not John could see her, she nodded and looked back to the Professor and Ethan, who were having a strange conversation about portals and dimensions.

Hannah cleared her throat and they looked to her. “Lex?”

Ethan nodded. “Lex. Let’s go find her.” He stepped forward, offering her hand, and Hannah took it. “You know how to get to this hospital place, Banana?”

Hannah nodded and led the way, Ethan keeping her pace and holding her hand tightly.

There were less people at the medical center than Hannah expected, which she was grateful for. Emma, Paul, and Ed must have left after bringing Lex, as they were nowhere to be seen. Lex herself seemed better, though still far from perfect, and Becky was taping up Tim’s sprained ankle while the father and son duo talked quietly.

Hannah let go of Ethan’s hand and approached her sister. “Lexie..”

The older girl, who had a blanket draped over her shoulders, looked down at Hannah and smiled weakly. “Hey. Sorry about that.” Her voice sounded slightly hoarse.

Hannah shook her head. “No need.” She offers Lex her hands, which Lex took and squeezed lightly.

After a moment, Hannah remembered Ethan was still there and looked over at him. He was standing awkwardly, obviously wanting to comfort Lex, but feeling conflicted since he was the cause of the panic attack in the first place.

Lex followed Hannah’s gaze and tensed for a moment when she saw Ethan. Before she could react more, he lifted his hands in a surrender gesture. “I know what you mean now, about me being alive. Hannah and that, uh, Professor guy said I’m from a different dimension? I guess? I don’t entirely understand, but uh, apparently it’s the most likely explanation.” 

Lex seemed wary, but Hannah felt her detense somewhat. “...That doesn’t make any damn sense.”

Ethan laughed. “Yeah, I thought so too.”

There was a pause, but Lex was smiling wider, her eyes watering slightly. “It’s good to see you again.”

Ethan grinned in return. “Hasn’t been that long for me, but I’m always glad to see you.”

He stepped forward to sit with Lex, but hesitated for another moment. Lex watched him for a moment and then let go of one of Hannah’s hands and patted the spot next to her. He sat beside her, and she took his hand.

As Hannah watched the two of them slip back into their old, silly banter, she smiled. Ethan appearing was still suspicious, but Hannah found herself caring less. Her family was being put back together.

In the back of her mind, John’s concern resurfaced. And with  _ his  _ worries about the portals in mind again, Hannah’s own worries about how he sounded and was acting came back stronger.

“You okay?” Hannah whispered again, hoping John would answer, but hearing nothing. 

Instead, Webby responded.  _ “Healing.”  _ She explains. “ _ John… give him time.”  _

Hannah sighed and looked back to Lex and Ethan. It hadn’t been that long since she started not minding John, but she worried what him disappearing meant. Why did he need to heal? What had happened? 

Hannah thought back to the gap she felt, and Lex’s sudden reaction. Was it possible, she wondered, for John to talk to Lex? He said he couldn’t disconnect from Hannah, so maybe that’s what hurt him?

Hannah supposed she’d have to ask once he came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a shorter chapter so expect a bonus one later today or later this week yeehaw


	7. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three names mentioned! Ed, Corey, and Jolene. Ed and Corey I don't want to spoil but I think you can tell from context clues that Jolene is Colonel Schaffer. (Thanks to a friend of mine for the name suggestion, yeehaw!)

It was barely noon and Hannah was already exhausted. Her and Tim had been outside from about nine in the morning until eleven, and the following hour had passed quickly. 

Distracted by the adrenaline and her thoughts and worries about Ethan, and portals, and John, the rest of the day went quickly by and she crashed in the living room early in the night.

On another plane of existence, leaking into Hannah’s, was one General John McNamara, leaning against a couch that, for him, didn’t actually exist. Of course, from the couch’s perspective, _he_ was the one who didn’t exist.

It was dark, in the Black and White. Endless blackness. A starless, hopeless void, home to creatures beyond imagination.

It was home to him now, too.

John sighed, keeping an eye on Hannah’s sleeping form, as he thought about his old home on Earth. He was supposed to take Corey out for his first drink at the end of the month. They were going to visit Ed’s family in Washington state just a few days after Black Friday. Jolene had been planning a weekend get-away for some of the higher-ups. She desperately wanted to go to Vegas.

John wondered if any of them were still alive. Despite his newfound connection to the Black and White, he didn’t know everything. Occasionally the blackness parted and he would see things to come, or things in the past. It was up to him to connect the dots. The visions provided the questions that would lead to answers, eventually.

John felt a tickle on his leg and looked down. A spider, the color of the cosmos, sat on his knee, looking up at him. Webby often appeared to him in this form; he figured her true form was likely too much to comprehend.

Unlike usual, however, Webby was very quiet. For the first couple weeks of John being tethered to Hannah, they spent every moment Hannah wasn’t awake arguing, and most of the time she _was_ awake as well. He still felt guilty about that; Webby wasn’t bad, she only wanted to protect Hannah. Even after he had resigned to his fate, Webby still talked to him frequently. John was beginning to suspect that she was lonely, only ever talking to a single person. A new face, no matter how disliked, is always interesting.

He watched the spider, and she watched him. Finally, she broke the silence. _“Healing?”_

John nodded. “I’ll be fine. Do you know what time it is?”

_“Time… non-existent.”_

He nodded again. Answers like that usually meant she didn’t know. “I’ll most likely be fine by the time Hannah wakes up. Thank you for worrying about me.” He smirked, and swore he could see Webby rolling her many eyes.

 _“Not worried. Not for you.”_ She turned her back to him and he couldn’t help but laugh slightly. But after only a moment his chest began to ache and he felt like he was falling apart again, the world disintegrating around him.

Once he caught his breath, John looked around. Webby was facing him again, and while she didn’t exactly have a face in this form, he could tell she was concerned.

_“Why, John?”_

He sat up further, trying not to disturb her. “Why what?”

_“Talk to Lex. Break connection. Why?”_

John hummed. It had been an impulsive decision, one he wasn’t sure would work. But seeing Lex, and thus Hannah, in pain…

“I’ve talked to her before.” He looked up at the blackness above him. “I thought perhaps I could calm her down. But I didn’t have enough time, and only startled her more.”

_“Wanted… to help?”_

“Yes. I’ve nothing else to do here,” he gestured to the infinite realm around him, “and nowhere to go. I’d rather be helpful than a nuisance.”

Webby stayed quiet for a while. Eventually she jumped off his leg and scuttled off into the darkness. John watched her for a moment before looking at Hannah again, still sleeping soundly. He could faintly see someone coming closer, and then shaking her from the opposite side of the couch. When she didn’t stur, the person came around to the front, where John saw it was Ethan, with another figure near him, presumably Lex, and picked her up gently. John stood with them. He had to move with Hannah, or else the Black and White would tear him apart, like it had when he reached out to Lex.

Ethan carried Hannah up the stairs into the kids room, set her in her bed, and tucked her in. Lex sat beside her and carefully undid her braids. John sat nearby and faced away from them. Being bound to the young girl, he was forced to observe her a lot, but he did his best to give her the privacy she needed and deserved. Such a soft moment between the three wasn’t for him to watch or intrude on. John was not part of their family, or even their community; most of them didn’t even know he was there.

The isolation of the Black and White was one of the worst aspects of it. It was infinite, and infinitely empty. John only had about a twelve-foot radius around Hannah that he could move in safely, and those twelve feet were just as empty. When someone came into view, he could see them, but they were in separate realities. No one could see him, and the only person who could hear him was Hannah. So close, but so far away.

John spared a glance over his shoulder at the trio. Lex and Ethan were making sure Hannah was all settled before standing to leave. They walked straight through him, and he didn’t feel it at all.

John missed feeling. He missed the sun, the wind, the snow. He missed hugs and kisses from Ed and Corey, and firm handshakes and pats on the back from Xander and Jolene. He missed warm showers and cold drinks. 

He missed _texture._ The “ground” of the Black and White had no feel, no pattern, no distinction. The only thing John could feel was himself, and the things he had come in with. The cold, heavy metal of his gun. The annoying scratchiness of his hat. The firmness of his vest. The weight of his watch, a gift from his father, on his wrist, though it had long stopped ticking. 

John ran his hands through his hair and wondered if he wasn’t just fading away slower than he thought. He could only feel so much, and those feelings had become muted in the near-month he had been trapped in the Black and White. As he combed his hair with his fingers, it felt so distant. He barely existed, even to himself.

And God, did he long for a cigarette.

The sound of scuttling brought his attention back. Webby had returned. She sat again on his knee, and while he felt the sensation, it wasn’t how it was supposed to be. 

_“Worry makes less handsome, John.”_

Her comment thoroughly snapped him out of his spiral and he laughed heartily, forcefully cutting himself off before he hurt himself again. “Thank you, Webby, but worrying is my job.”

_“Worry, worry, worry. All we do.”_

He sighed, the melancholy already returning. “Yes, it sure seems like it, doesn’t it?” He paused, once again looking at Hannah over his shoulder. “She’s worth the worry, though. She’s a good kid. Deserves better than all this…” 

_“Worry for more than Hannah.”_ Webby mumbled. _“Worry for you.”_

John was surprised to hear that from the spider; Webby was more adamantly against him than Hannah was. “You worry about me?”

The spider on his knee fidgeted in place, its legs gently tapping against his. _“Saw you hurt her.”_

“Saw me hurt who?” Webby didn’t respond and, looking over his shoulder a third time, he connected the dots. “Hannah? When did I hurt Hannah? Well, I suppose the arguing-”

 _“No.”_ Webby interrupted, voice firm. _“Hurt her. Neck. Air.”_

 _Suffocation_ , he thought, and grew upset. “Why would I suffocate Hannah? When would I ever?”

 _“Not yet!”_ Her voice boomed, too loud for her spider body, and frankly, too loud for John. He hated the arguing as much as Hannah did for that very reason. He found it ironic; a soldier should be more used to loud noises, surely. 

_“Not yet.”_ Webby repeated. _“Future.”_

John settled a bit as he pieced it together. “You foresaw me suffocating Hannah.” The spider twitched, and he took it as confirmation. “Is that why you never liked me? When did you see this?”

 _“Before Wiggly. Turkey day.”_ She twitched again. _“Treat you badly, because… afraid. Sorry.”_

He nodded. “Fear consumes us rather easily, whether we’re human, spider, or anything in between. I’m sorry for fighting with you, I surely wasn’t easing your worries. But I swear on my honor,” he picked up Webby’s small form and held her closer so he could look into her eyes, “I will never harm a hair on Hannah’s head. I’d sooner let myself disappear.”

The spider seemed to nod and he set her back on his leg. Not a moment sooner, the blackness of the Black and White was replaced with a myriad of colors and shapes, transforming the landscape.

“What’s going on?” John asked, slightly panicked.

 _“Future.”_ Webby repeated, and John felt like he was falling. He'd had some visions before, but nothing this intense or overwhelming.

He saw Hannah, back in the ruins of Hatchetfield. This time she wasn’t alone; he couldn’t see who was with her, but she was surrounded by people, who were all circled around a collapsed building.

He saw new ruins, near the water, and could make out people with their arms raised to the sky, surrounding an individual he couldn’t quite make out, standing against a metallic background.

He saw cold metal and concrete and a familiar face with an unfamiliar smile.

Mostly clearly however he saw two scenes, from the perspective of someone else.

The first scene was of collapsing, falling down, down, down, to a horrid demise. From up high, a man, watching, his face clear as day.

The second scene was of someone being shot. Standing above the shooter, John could see the gun _and_ the gunman, his face clear as could be.

Both scenes had the same face. A man with a square face and soft edges, framed by short, neatly-combed black hair, and almond-shaped eyes with blue-brown irises. He had the aura of a professional killer, and based off the visions, he had the skills to match.

The man was present at two deaths to come in the future. John only hoped that Hannah wouldn’t be there to see them.

The colors of the visions faded back into the blackness of the Black and White and John let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 _“Worry time.”_ Webby muttered, and John nodded, silent.


	8. Fear

Hannah was falling. She saw flashes of things yet to come, things that would never happen. 

Eyes as bright as suns, peering from eternal blackness. Two figures stood in front of them, mere silhouettes, but they were clearly fighting with all their might. 

Another flash; a man’s face, eyes serious, gun raised. He pulls the trigger and she’s falling again, and there he is again, running away, but she’s still falling. 

Another flash and she sees people she knows gathered around an abandoned building, it’s walls broken and windows smashed, but they’re going in anyway.

Another flash and she sees a bespeckled man, lying in bed, a smile on his face as the life in his eyes drains away. 

Another flash and she sees and  _ hears _ herself, singing, walking with the shambling bodies of the Infected.

_ “Worry time.”  _ Said Webby, and Hannah woke up.

The visions worried her, they always did. But Webby usually had messages to go with them, clues that made it easier to piece together. This time, Webby had nothing to add, and that scared her more than the visions themselves did.

“It’ll be alright, Hannah.” Came John’s voice, gentle and soothing. “We saw them, too. We’ll help protect you.”

Hannah nodded, and then froze. “John?”

“Yes?”

“Okay?” She fiddled with her hair, which had come undone at some point. The more she thought about it, the more she remembered falling asleep in the living room, not the kids room.

“Okay?” He repeated. “Of course I’m okay. What makes you ask?”

Hannah bit her lip. “Quiet yesterday. And… Webby said you were healing.”

There was a moment of silence. “I see.” She heard him take a breath. “I didn’t mean to worry you, Hannah. I… I suppose I was hurt, yes. But I’m alright now.”

“How?”

“How?” He repeated, and cleared his throat. “How did I get hurt?”

She nodded. “I think… Did you talk to Lexie?”

Another pause. “I did, yes. In doing so I suppose I got too far from you and it hurt me. But, like I said, I’m alright now.”

Hannah frowned. “Don’t hurt yourself, John. Please.”

A third pause, this one the longest and most telling. She heard what sounded like suppressed laughter before he spoke again. “I promise, I won’t do anything like that again.”

Hannah nodded with a slight smile. Then she got up, got dressed, braided her hair, put on the warrior’s cap, and went to the kitchen to get breakfast, just like every morning.

She stayed in the dining room for the better part of the day, eating a PB&J remarkably slowly. She wasn’t very hungry, but Lex and the others wanted her to eat, so she would, but at her own pace.

People came and went from the room and, from what Hannah could tell, outside. No one was gone for more than a couple hours, and the worst injury she saw was a large scrape on Emma’s arm from falling into some rocks. 

When she asked the Professor why people were leaving so frequently, he sat down at the table to explain. “Well, it’s actually quite remarkable, Hannah.” He smiled, and Hannah thought he looked like a mad scientist. “You see, Ethan not only from another time, but another dimension. From my questioning, I’ve discovered that the world he came from is slightly different from our own. There’s a different President, for example. But more importantly,  _ there is no Wiggly. _ ”

Hannah’s eyes widened. “No Wiggly? But… how?”

The Professor shook his head. “How doesn’t matter. What matters is that if Ethan was able to come to our dimension,” the Professor gestured largely with his hands, “then  _ we _ should be able to go to  _ his. _ ”

John hummed, and Webby echoed the sound, and so did Hannah. John then cleared his throat again, and spoke up. “That would make sense. But it would be incredibly dangerous.”

Hannah did not repeat John’s comments, and instead made her own. “Which portal is Ethan’s?”

The Professor tapped on the table. “Yes, that’s the problem. That’s what everyone has been going out looking for. You see, Ethan said he came through a portal in an alley of the mall. But we’ve been searching there, and have found several portals, some of them appearing and disappearing in seconds.” He paused for a moment before looking up at Hannah, who promptly looked down at the table. “We need to find a stable portal, and then find a way to see if it’s to a safe and habitable world. All that is, well… it’s easier said than done.”

Hannah nodded. “Could be dangerous.”

The Professor straightened his jacket. “Most certainly. Right now we’re simple trying to make a map of all the portals we know of. Even if they disappear, if they’re all localized in one area, that could be useful.”

After that, Tom and Ed came inside, both seemingly unharmed, though Tom was missing his flannel. The Professor looked up at them. “Welcome back. Who’s next? Paul, Bill, and Ted, right?” 

The three men talked about portals and patrols and walked off to elsewhere in the house, leaving Hannah alone.

She took another bite of her sandwich, silently chewing. It was finally almost gone, then she could go back to her room, or the Fun Room, and distract herself.

Webby hummed again for a moment.  _ “Bored or scared?” _

Hannah swallowed the bite of sandwich and mumbled, “Both.”

After a moment of silence, John spoke up with the same gentle tone from that morning. “It’s okay to be afraid. This is a scary time, and I regret that you have to go through it. But you are very, very brave, Hannah, and I’m proud of you. Your sister, everyone, they all can see you’re doing a good job.” He paused a moment, and Hannah wished she could see him.

“Things may get more difficult, more frightening, more dangerous. But we’ll get through it. Do not let your fear consume you; use it to drive you forward.”

Hannah rubbed her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. Even if John couldn’t see her, a fact she still wasn’t sure of, someone else might walk past, and she didn’t want to look like a little kid.

“Thank you.” She mumbled, and ate the last of her sandwich.

She didn’t want to say it aloud, but Hannah was really starting to like John. He was nice, and smart, and listened to her. Him and Webby didn’t fight anymore, so they weren’t loud, and when they were loud they quieted down when she asked. He was a good man, and Hannah was glad he was on her side, even if she still wished he wasn’t trapped in her head.

“As for the bored part,” he added as she stood to clear her plate, “I may have an idea, if you’re willing.”

“What’s the idea?” 

“Do you know how to play chess?”

Hannah shook her head no, and John hummed for a moment. “Would you like to learn?”

She thought for a moment, and shook her head yes. “You’ll teach me?”

“Of course, that’s why I asked. There’s a board in the Fun Room, right?”

“Think so.” She left the kitchen and walked upstairs to the Fun Room. 

Surprisingly, there was no one there. Alice and Deb were likely off somewhere together. Now that Ethan was back, him and Lex were likely doing the same. As for Oliver and Tim, she didn’t know, but figured it was for the best if she was by herself here, since she’d be talking to John the whole time.

Hannah took the chess board out of the pile of board games. It was heavier than she expected, but she set it down gently on the table and sat beside it.

“Alright, you’ll have to set up the pieces.” John told her. “They go in a specific order. The pawns, those small ones with the round top, all go in a line in the second to last row.”

As she set up the black and white pieces, John explained how they moved and what they were called. There were a lot of rules, but he reassured her that he would remind her if she needed help.

“Will you play a game?” Hannah asked, tapping on the table.

“Of course.” John responded quickly. “But you’ll have to move my pieces for me, okay?”

Hannah nodded. “White first. Where?”

“Move the pawn in column D one space forward, please.” He directed her. Hannah was glad the rows and columns were labelled.

Ultimately, the game was not very long. Hannah quickly left her King unguarded, which John pointed out. She spent several turns moving until it was safe, but still got caught.

It wasn’t all bad, as John pointed out. She managed to steal a few of his pieces, including both of his Bishops, and she would’ve got his Queen had her King not been in check from one of his Knights.

Once the game and analysis was over, she heard him sigh, content. “It takes a lot of practice, a lot of thought. You did well. Would you play again?”

Hannah thought for a moment, then nodded. “Not today, but yes.”

“I’m glad.” John said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I hope we play again sometime.”

Their moment was interrupted by the door opening. Hannah looked and saw Alice, sobbing, and Deb leading her in, whispering comforting words.

Hannah was scared to ask, but walked up to them. “What’s wrong?”

Alice responded by crying harder, which made Hannah flinch. Deb, however, looked up and cleared her throat. “Paul, Ted, and Bill went looking for more of those portals. They haven’t come back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, every week: I'm gonna do a bonus chapter!  
> me, every week: does not do a bonus chapter
> 
> anyway I'm not promising a bonus chapter bc next chapter is a Big One


	9. Love

The rest of the day was filled with unsuccessful rescue missions and various forms of stress and anxiety. Alice fell asleep in Deb’s arms after several hours of crying and despair. As night fell and morning rose, there was no sign of the three men who had ventured out into the wasteland of Hatchetfield.

The next morning was similar. Deb and Tim comforted a depressed Alice. Oliver was on a patrol looking for the missing men. Lex, Ethan, and Hannah were making breakfast for all the kids.

Hannah was on toast and drink duty. She made very good toast, so she’d been told. Two pieces for each kid, minus Oliver, meant 12 total. Luckily, the Professor had one of those fancy six-slice toasters, so it was going quicker.

Ethan was making eggs. He made the  _ best  _ eggs. Perfectly cooked, never popping the yolk, seasoned to each person’s specific tastes. Tim didn’t like fried eggs, so his were scrambled, but Hannah was sure they would be just as well-made and delicious. 

Lex was plating everything, and delivering it up to the kid’s room. She was also making bacon in the oven, as Ethan was at the stove and she didn’t like to cook bacon over the stove anyway, after she got burnt by the grease a few too many times. 

The drinks Hannah would deliver herself. Milk for herself, Tim, and Lex. Orange juice for Ethan, apple juice for Deb, and tea for Alice, though Hannah had never made tea before so she had to ask Ethan for help. The Professor had several kinds of tea and coffee, and Lex and Ethan figured chamomile would be best for Alice’s worrying.

Once breakfast was all made and everyone was back in the kid’s room, they had a lovely little indoor picnic together. The chefs were complimented, the talk was light and pleasant, bellies were full, and Alice seemed a little less stressed. 

After everyone ate and the plates were set aside, the teens grabbed the cards, intending to gamble more, but Tim had asked if they could  _ all  _ play a game, so they decided on War instead.

“Trade one game of chance for another.” John commented, seeming amused. “Real war isn’t much different, I suppose.”

_ “Always war.”  _ Webby sighed.  _ “Earth. Space. Both. War, always.” _

Hannah grumbled. “This is a game. Not a real war.”

Ethan looked over at her quizzically. “That spider still talkin’ to ya, Banana?” Hannah nodded, adjusting the Warrior’s cap. “Well, if Miss Space Spider is buggin’ ya about war, tell her I’ll be startin’ one with her for scarin’ ya so often.”

Lex elbowed him. “Webby isn’t bad. She’s helpful, she predicts the future.”

Ethan laughed as he set down his card, the King of Spades, and looked at Lex. “You believe in the imaginary space spider now, too? If she predicts so much, why doesn’t she tell us how to get outta this mess, huh?”

Lex huffed, setting down her own card, the Ace of Hearts. “She predicted your death well enough.”

“She did?” Ethan and John asked, simultaneously.

_ “Bad blood.”  _ Webby recalled, and Hannah repeated aloud.

Deb cleared her throat and set down the Queen of Hearts. “Let’s not talk about death right now, okay?”

Hannah glanced at Alice, who had already put out her 5 of Diamonds. Her eyes were glassy and red and she held tightly to Deb’s arm. “Sorry.” She told her. “I’m sorry, Alice.” The older girl just nodded.

Lex and Ethan apologized similarly, and though only Hannah could hear him, John did too.

Tim nudged Hannah. “You have to play your card!” He himself had played the 10 of Clubs.

Hannah took the top card from her deck and set it down: a Joker. Lex’s Ace beat everyone else, but the Joker beat the Ace, and Hannah won the round.

The game continued with much lighter chat. When it was played with two people, War was usually very hard to actually  _ win,  _ and often only ended when someone gave up. But with a deck of 52 spread between six people, it was easy to knock people out completely. Eventually it was down to just Hannah and Ethan, and it became a standstill.

Then there was a knock on the door. Tim got up to answer it, revealing Oliver, having returned from his search with Ed and Peanuts. 

Alice stood and rushed to his side. “Well? Did you find them? What happened?”

He smiled. “We found them. They’re all a bit scraped up and scared, but they’re alive. Hidgens and Becky are looking them over right now.”

Alice tried to get around him but he held her in place. “Alice, they specifically asked not to be disturbed. They’re making sure none of them are infected.”

“My dad is  _ not  _ an alien.” She argued, voice cracking.

“I believe you.” He stepped forward and shut the door. “But they want to double-check, with all three of them.”

Alice sat back down without further argument, seeming relieved but impatient. Deb sat close, rubbing her back.

Oliver cleared his throat. “So. How was breakfast?”

Hannah offered him a piece of bacon she had saved, which he gladly took. They restarted their card game, but Tim didn’t want to play anymore, so the older teens decided to go back to gambling instead.

Hannah sat apart from them, thinking to herself. Remembering her poor chess skills, she got up and ran down the hall to the Fun Room to grab it.

“Hoping for a rematch, or are you going to teach Tim?” John asked.

“Gonna play with you.” She told him, walking back to make sure she didn’t drop the box full of ceramic pieces. “I wanna get better, so I can beat you.”

“Well, practice makes perfect, Bug.” He had a laugh in his voice, and Hannah stopped walking. 

“Bug?”

There was a moment of silence. Webby repeated,  _ “Bug? John?” _

“I’m sorry, Hannah.” He finally spoke. “I-” He cleared his throat a few times. “That was an accident. I’m sorry.”

She kept walking, slower than before. “Who’s Bug?”

“It’s just a nickname.” He said quickly. “Like how Lex and Ethan call you Banana.”

Hannah was beginning to grow impatient. “John. Who’s Bug?”

“Just…” There was a long pause, and she heard him take a breath. “Someone in PEIP, that I used to know.”

“Why can’t I know?”

“You do get to know. I told you.”

“No you didn’t! You can trust me!”

“Look out.” His tone had turned serious, and ice cold. 

Hannah looked up to see Paul stumbling through the hallway to the kids room, blood dripping through his jacket. Despite her loud voice just moments ago, he hadn’t seemed to notice her.

“Infected?” She whispered.

“No.” John told her. “His blood is red. The infected’s blood is blue.”

Hannah was relieved, but she didn’t let her guard down yet. She set the chess set on the floor against the wall of the hallway, and walked up to the wounded man.

“Paul?” She asked. “What happened?”

Paul looked at her with glazed-over eyes. “Hm… Hannah?”

“Yes. What happened?”

He took a moment to respond, falling to the right before hitting the wall, his eyes fluttering shut again. “Uh… Bill. ‘ttacked us. Had to get back. Becky ‘nd Hidgens left…” He coughs, sliding down the side of the wall.

Hannah joined him, kneeling. “Bill attacked you?” Paul nodded. “Infected?” He nodded a second time.

“Hannah, get him inside the kids room.” John ordered, and she did as she was old, opening the door just a few feet away, and doing her best to guide him inside.

Lex, who was worried about why Hannah ran off, was even more worried when she saw the bleeding Paul, and helped him inside. Hannah shut the door behind them.

As the teens struggled to help Paul, who they discovered had quite the gash on his side, Hannah repeated what he had told her.

Alice crumpled. “Dad… No. No, it must’ve been someone else!” Her tears return tenfold, and Deb holds her tight.

“He also said Becky is gone.” Tim frowned, staying away from all the blood. “What happened to her?”

Surrounded by tears, questions, and blood, Hannah sat against the wall, tugging on her braids. “Safe? Are we safe? Lexie? John?”

Lex offered Hannah a hand and she took it, squeezing tightly. “We’ll be safe if we stick together, it’ll be okay. Can I help Paul, or do you need help?”

Hannah shakes her head, and Lex gives her hand one more squeeze before letting go and returning to helping Ethan and Oliver with Paul.

“Lex is right, Hannah.” John’s voice is warm again. “Stay with her, and you’ll be safe.”

Webby hummed, or perhaps vibrated.  _ “Infected. Stay safe. Find nurse. Blood, blood, blood. Red, blue, black.” _

Webby’s message scared Hannah, but she understood the deeper meaning: They had to find Becky or Paul would die. 

Oliver seemed to come to the same conclusion, and he stood. “I’m going to the medical center to find Becky, or at least supplies. If I’m not back in ten minutes, assume the worst.” He left before anyone could argue, shutting the door behind him.

Hannah watched the room. Deb held Alice as she sobbed. Lex and Ethan did their best to stop Paul from bleeding out. Paul himself was pale and his breathing was slow. Tim was in the corner, on his bed, under his covers. She could see the cast on his foot sticking out from under the blankets. 

Hannah thought back to mere moments ago, and the chess set in the hall. She still didn’t know who Bug was, or why John wanted to hide it. Or why John had called her that at all.

After eight minutes, Oliver returned with bandages and a syringe with a bit of liquid in it. Lex and Ethan moved to take it from him, but he only handed over the bandages.

“The cut is bad, yes, but if it was bad enough to make him delusional, he wouldn’t have survived overnight.” He showed the syringe. The needle looked slightly red. “It seems more likely that Becky had maybe given him a sedative so she could sew him up, and then left suddenly in the middle. It’d be best not to give him anymore.”

Ethan had already started patching up the cut as best he could, his hands and sleeves stained red. 

“But why would Becky leave?” Lex asked, a subtle fear in her voice. “She’s a professional, she wouldn’t just get up and leave in the middle of a surgery.”

“Maybe something scared her off.” Oliver suggested, and everyone knew what he meant.

“If so, then why didn’t that something attack Paul? Look at him.” Lex gestured at the man on the floor. “He’s a wimp even when he’s not bleeding out, he’s an easy target.”

Oliver shrugged. “We shouldn’t assume the worst. Becky might still be alive.”

Hannah kept her eyes on Paul. “Blood, blood, blood. Red, blue, black.” She repeated Webby’s message from earlier.

Lex looked at her. “Webby?” Hannah nodded. “What does it mean?”

Hannah thought for a moment. She pointed at Paul. “Red blood.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “Infected have blue blood.”

“Then what’s the black?” Ethan asked, tying the bandage around Paul’s torso.

The door was kicked open, and the lights flickered. All eyes were on the doorway.

Before them, in the flickering light, stood two people with blue-stained faces. A man and a woman.

The man, to everyone’s surprise, was not Bill, but Ted. His mustache was stained with the blue blood of the Infected, and below his mustache was a sickeningly wide smile, all teeth and no joy.

Beside him, her organs falling out of her stomach, all of them blue, was Charlotte, who had a matching, blue-stained smile. On her sweater, however, surrounded by the blue, was more blood. It was dried, soaked into the fabric, and had turned black.

They shut the door behind them, and began to sing.

_ “It is time.”  _ Charlotte commanded.  _ “To  _ _ die! _ _ ” _

Some part of Hannah’s mind thought the note she hit was impressive, but mostly it was spinning out of fear. She looked around, desperately thinking of a way out, even if it was only her.

Webby was chanting something about the apotheosis and blood, John was trying to tell her how to fight back or run, but Hannah just sat still, watching the room, watching the zombies of former friends sing and dance about the teens’ inevitable deaths.

As the song seemed to come to a close, Hannah registered the sound of a gunshot. Ted and Charlotte froze immediately. They hurried out of the room, making a strange humming noise as they left. The children and Paul were relatively unharmed.

More gunshots followed, and after a few moments, the doorway was filled once more, this time by Becky, a gun in her hands. The Professor ran past her, shooting after the two zombies, chasing them out of the house.

Becky set her gun on a shelf and kneeled beside Paul, checking his pulse and looking over Ethan’s bandaging job. 

Tim peeked out from under his covers. “Becky? Are you…?”

She looked over and gave him a smile. “I’ll be fine. Ted took me by surprise is all.” Becky moved her hair out of her face, and Hannah noticed the large bruise on her neck. “Can anyone help me get him back to the medical center? He never should’ve left, but I guess his blood trail is what led us here, so…”

Lex and Ethan helped Becky lift Paul up and over their shoulders to take him downstairs, but before they left, Alice called out to them.

“Wh-What about my dad? Is-Is he…” She trailed off, forbidding herself from assuming the worst.

Becky gave Alice a small smile from over her shoulder. “Bill’s a little banged up, but he’s okay. Henry had him stay in the lab.”

Deb frowned. “Then why did Paul say Bill attacked him?”

Becky shifted Paul’s weight on her shoulder. “The three were attacked by some Infected. From what they could tell me, one of them was Bill, despite  _ our  _ Bill being fine. Henry thinks it’s like how Ethan was able to come here. Alternate universes and all that.”

Alice let out a sob of relief. “Can I see him? Please?” She was already standing. Becky gave her a nod, and Alice and Deb followed closely behind the group.

Later, at dinner, the Professor explained that he unfortunately lost track of Ted and Charlotte once they got outside, but at the least, everyone within the house was safe and uninfected. 

Paul was recovering from his minor surgery, and had apologized for the miscommunication. He hadn’t known Ted was infected, so he couldn’t even slightly warn them in his delusional state. 

The adults figured that Ted, after attacking Becky, must’ve gone looking for someone who trusted him more, namely Charlotte, to infect and have a better chance against the group.

Besides the news, dinner was quiet. They were on the verge of having more children than adults.

The kids went to bed, though Alice refused to leave Bill’s side and so the two stayed in the living room for a while longer.

When Hannah woke up the next morning and went to get breakfast, she quickly realized something big had happened overnight.

The Professor gathered everyone in the dining room for breakfast, which was a rare occasion, and sat at the head.

“We have now lost five people. Five adults.” He began. “So… starting today, we are allowing those sixteen or older to join us in searching the ruins of Hatchetfield for usable supplies, and portals to better worlds.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't mind that Im two and a half hours late. its fine. who's Bug??? just a starship reference??? we shall see


	10. Kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? two weeks late? its more likely than you think

It was Christmas Eve. The day before Hannah’s birthday. In years past, she would be excited for Christmas, and her birthday, and the time she would surely be spending with Lex and Ethan. This year, her head was clouded with thoughts of fear and worry.

Lex, Ethan, Alice, and Deb were all allowed to go outside now. Something Lex had fought for since the beginning, but now she seemed reluctant. Hannah figured it all went back to Ethan.

Today, however, they were not going out. The remaining adults had left in an effort to more thoroughly map out the area, as they wanted to keep the teens out of certain, more dangerous areas. 

So it was just the kids inside today, as well as Oliver, who Lex still argued should count as a kid, and Paul, who was still recovering from his injury from the day before. They were all in the Fun Room, and Hannah had her head in Lex’s lap. The older girl was undoing and redoing Hannah’s braids, not because they were messy, but rather as a soothing gesture, for both girls. Ethan sat beside Lex, and would occasionally reach over and pat Hannah’s head gently.

It was very quiet, and Hannah figured she must’ve fallen asleep for a bit. Part of her wanted to get up to play chess with John, but it was so nice and comfortable. She didn’t have to think about all the bad things.

Eventually, though, the chatter of the older kids got her attention. They were searching for things to bet.

Hannah sat up. “Gambling again?”

Tim scooted forward. “You should teach me and Hannah! We’ve got stuff to bet!”

Hannah wasn’t sure how she felt being looped into all this, but the older kids were already debating among eachother.

“Poker’s not so bad with friends.” John chimed in. “But don’t go to casinos. They’re rigged.”

_ “John? Gambler?”  _ Webby asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

John grumbled. “No. I went to one on my honeymoon, haven’t been since. Though we occasionally play for fun down at PEIP headquarters.”

“Honeymoon?” Hannah whispered, watching the teens do tricks shuffling cards. “You’re married?”

John was quiet. “Yes.” He finally answered. “But that’s for another time. You should play with them. Have a little fun.”

Hannah wanted to know more about John being married, and remembered yesterday how he did the same with calling her Bug. She frowned. He really didn’t like answering questions.

“Hannah?” Lex interrupted her thoughts. “Are you gonna play?”

She looked at the table. Most of the usual bets were there, as well as Ethan’s jacket and Tim’s guitar (well, it was really  _ Tom’s _ guitar, but Tim had it at the moment). 

She thought for a moment. What did she have to bet? Meaning to pull at her pants, Hannah found her answer in her lap: the warrior’s cap. While she was reluctant to part with it, it was only for fun, so she gently placed it on the betting pile, and was met with cheers.

Most of the teens agreed that it’s better to learn on your feet, but in order to make things a little more fair, they split into teams. Alice and Deb, Tim and Oliver, Lex and Hannah, and Ethan was the dealer. 

Once each team had two cards, Lex instructed Hannah to look at them discreetly. Hannah had an Ace of Hearts and a Two of Spades. Lex nodded and whispered to Hannah.

“This is pretty good, aces are pretty high value. We should try for maybe four of a kind, or full house. So basically, we want to get more aces and twos.”

Hannah didn’t  _ entirely  _ get it, but nodded.

Ethan cleared his throat. “So, we do the betting a little differently since none of us have money. So if you raise, you have to offer up another object. So don’t raise unless you have something to offer.” The table nodded. “Here comes the flop.”

Ethan put down three cards; a four of hearts, an eight of clubs, and a seven of spades. He explained for everyone, “You look at these and compare them to your hand. The two cards you have, plus two more I’ll put out later, are going to be your options for your ending hand. You’ll have five cards total, and the highest value wins.”

Lex whispers to Hannah again. “We aren’t doing so good. We can’t make anything with our cards against those ones. So when it’s your turn, just say check, because I don’t think anyone’s gonna raise.”

Tim and Oliver were first clockwise, and they raised, adding Oliver’s glasses to the betting pool. Lex sighed.

“Okay, you can either call, and keep going, or fold, and give up. It’s up to you.”

“Call.” John advised. “He could be lying. That’s a big part of this game. It’s best to stay in, you might get better cards.”

When it came to Hannah’s turn, she called, and at the end Ethan revealed another card; the Ace of Spades.

Lex patted Hannah’s leg under the table, and she took it as a sign tides were turning. Across the table, Tim was frowning.

“That’s the Ace of Spades, for those of us who are blind.” Ethan smirked at Oliver.

“I know what the card is.” Oliver huffed. The table snickered in response.

After another way around the table, with nothing changing, Ethan put down the final card. “Two of Diamonds.”

Hannah had two matching pairs, and though she still wasn’t sure what that meant, it seemed good!

“You have a Two Pair.” Lex whispered to her and John confirmed. “It’s not the best, but it’s still good.”

In the last go-around, Tim folded with a pout.

Ethan clapped. “Alice versus Hannah! Showdown! That means you show your cards, Hannah. Tim, you don’t have too.”

Hannah revealled her cards, and Lex shouted “Two Pair!”

Alice also revealled her cards, and said the same. She had an eight of Spades and a four of Diamonds.

Ethan grinned. “Pretty good, Hannah. You and Alice get to split the pot.”

Alice smiled at the younger girl. “That means we each get half of the stuff we betted.”

Alice obviously took her and Deb’s bets back, but also stole Oliver’s glasses, which Deb immediately put on.

Hannah took back the warrior’s cap and Lex’s phone, as well as Ethan’s jacket. All that remained was Oliver’s suspenders and Tim’s guitar, between which she took the instrument.

Lex gently held the guitar while Hannah put on Ethan’s jacket. He collected the cards.

“That was fun.” He smiled. “At this rate, you’ll be a master in no time. At some point we’ll have to play without teams.” He looked around the room to see Lex gently strumming Tim’s guitar and Oliver all but begging Alice and Deb for his stuff back. “But it probably won’t be today.”

Hannah stood up and started taking off Ethan’s jacket before he stopped her. “You can keep it for now. Just promise to give it back later, okay?” She nodded, smiling, and decided to look for the chessboard.

“You left it in the hallway.” John told her. “Looks like nobody put it back.”

Hannah thought for a moment and  _ did  _ remember setting it down upon seeing Paul bleeding out in the hallway. She quietly stepped out of the room to go and find it.

It was down the hall closer to the stairs, still against the wall. She picked it up and turned around to head back to the Fun Room.

“Will the others think it odd if they see you playing chess against yourself?” John asked.

Hannah hummed. “Think I’m weird anyway.”

John made an unhappy noise. “They shouldn’t think that without reason. They shouldn’t think that at all.”

“Webby is reason.” Hannah mumbles. “Can’t hear her… don’t understand.”

“That’s a poor excuse.”

Hannah shrugged. She was pretty used to being left out. Lex and Ethan were all she needed at this point. They loved her no matter what.

Hannah returned to the Fun Room with the chessboard to a small concert. Tim had his guitar back (though Oliver’s belongings were still being held hostage) and was playing a little song, Hannah didn’t recognize it, but knowing Tom it was probably from when he was in highschool. She sat nearby and listened. Her, Webby, and John all ended up humming along.

When Tim finished, he gave a sheepish smile and the room applauded.

“What’s the song, Tim?” Deb asked. “I think I might’ve heard it before.”

Tim fiddled with the guitar. “It’s called Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing. I don’t know the words very well.”

“Maybe we’ll learn ‘em.” Lex suggested. “We can sing while you play.”

“Really?” His eyes lit up.

Lex grinned. “It’s a promise. But I warn you, I’m not a very good singer.”

The room devolved into various casual conversations and Hannah moved to a table to set up the chessboard. Just as she finished, however, Tim sat opposite of her.

“Will you teach me?” He asked.

Hannah shrugged. “‘m not very good.”

In the blink of an eye, all the teens were nearby, giving the two kids advice on strategy, with the exception of Ethan and Deb, who were just as confused and commenting on how unrealistic chess is.

As the group coached her and Tim, she smiled. She could play with John later. Right now it was time for the kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah the song Tim was playing was "Don't Wanna Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith bc Tom is a grunge 90s teen lmao.  
> also Tim raised bc he was one away from having a straight but luck was not on his side so he folded. no I have never played poker. yes I looked it up on wikihow.


	11. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i need to stop being late. there WILL be another chapter this week because it was supposed to be a part of this one but it got long so i split it

It was finally here.

Hannah woke up to Webby chanting, which wasn’t unusual. The pleasant change of pace, however, was what she was chanting.

_ “Birthday, birthday, birthday, birthday!”  _ The spider cheered.

Hannah held herself close. Today was Christmas, and she was officially thirteen.

John sounded a bit confused. “Is it the 25th already?”

_ “Yes, John.”  _ Webby sounded disappointed.  _ “Birthday.” _

There was a pause, and then she heard happiness and warmth in his voice. “Well, happy thirteenth, Hannah. And merry Christmas.”

Hannah thanked them both and hurried to get dressed and braid her hair. She wasn’t expecting to get any gifts or anything, for her birthday  _ or  _ Christmas, but she hoped her family would at least acknowledge the anniversary. Lex and Ethan always did their best to throw her little parties when her mother wouldn’t.

In her hurry, Hannah left the Warrior’s cap on her bed, remembering it as she stepped out the door. Sparing a glance, she decided to leave it; she didn’t need its protection today.

Outside the kids room was quiet. Usually there was the distant sound of  _ someone _ moving  _ somewhere,  _ but today there was nothing. The air was still. Despite herself, Hannah felt a twinge of anxiety. Had everyone left her alone?

“Try the kitchen.” John advised. “They’re probably having breakfast.”

Stepping down the stairs, Hannah continued to strain her ears for any sign of life, but there was nothing. No footsteps, no voices (besides those of John and Webby), no plates being set down or cleared… Silence.

But she continued onto the kitchen despite the eerie quiet.

Right in front of the kitchen door, she still heard nothing. She opened it, and for a moment looked into an empty void. Then, light. Sound.

“Surprise!” It wasn’t just the kids, it was everyone. Tom held Tim on his shoulders, with Becky at his side. On his other side was Emma, and leaning on her slightly is Paul. Beside Paul is Bill, and then Alice and Deb. Finally there was Ed, Peanuts on his shoulder, and the Professor smiling politely just a bit behind them. In the front was Lex, Ethan, and Oliver, and in front of them were fourteen cupcakes, each with an unlit candle.

“Thirteen and one to grow on.” John commented.

Hannah rubbed her eyes and ran to hug Lex, who held her tight. She rubbed her back and asked, “Do you want to blow out the candles, Banana?”

“No fire.” Hannah told her, turning slightly to see them. She also saw Ethan playing with the lighter, and Oliver and the Professor trying to get him to stop.

She felt Lex laugh. “We’ll have someone with a brain light ‘em. And then you can make your wish.” She smiled at her sister and gently let go to snatch the lighter from Ethan.

As she watched the comical struggle, Hannah thought about the wish. When she was little, Hannah would make the same wish every year: to have a happy family. It never quite came true, and by the time she was ten, she had quit wishing. Lex and Ethan were all she needed.  _ They _ were her happy family.

Hannah was not going to go back to her childhood wish. She knew it would not be fulfilled. But a new wish came to mind, one she knew, deep down, would be impossible, but what were wishes for if not for the impossible?

In the end, Becky lit the candles. Hannah stood before them for a moment. Thirteen years and one to grow on, yes, but there were also only fourteen of them left, perhaps in the whole world.

Hannah closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and as she blew out the candles, she wished that everything would be okay.

Becky then advised that the cupcakes should not be eaten for breakfast, and Tom made pancakes for everyone, Emma and Paul helping by cutting fruit as a side and finding various ingredients, as Tom did not get them all at once. Hannah decided they were the best pancakes she had ever had.

Lex and Ethan cleared their plates first, and then stood on either side of Hannah.

“We’re going outside.” Lex put it bluntly, and it felt like a stab to the stomach. “We’ll be back around noon. Okay?”

Hannah shook her head no, and held onto Lex’s hands. “Why? Stay, please, Lexie…” She did her best not to whine.

Lex held her hands tight. “You’ll be okay, it’s just for a little while. It’s for a surprise.”

“Don’t need a surprise.” Hannah insisted. “Need  _ you. _ ”

“Mr. Houston’s comin’ too.” Ethan added, and she looked over her shoulder at him. “He’s a big strong guy, and he gets to use a gun! We’ll all be safe.”

Hannah absolutely did not want them to leave. She wanted to have a nice, simple day with her little family. Lex and Ethan leaving was the  _ opposite  _ of her wish.

“Let me come too.” She begged.

“Hannah, you’re not allowed.” The Professor told her. His voice and face were stern, but his eyes gave away his own anxiety. “Lex and Ethan asked me about this, Tom already agreed. They won’t be gone long, and they’ll be in what is pretty much the safest area out there.”

Lex squeezed Hannah’s hands. “I promise you’ll like the surprise.” She kissed her forehead. “We’ll be back soon. And then we’ll have cupcakes together, okay?”

Hannah had no choice but to be okay. She nodded, her gaze locked on their hands. Gently, Lex squeezed them once more and then slipped away. Tom quickly cleared his plate and the three of them left.

Hannah did not finish the last of her pancake. She let Peanuts have it, and then cleared the plate and went upstairs to the Fun Room.

Yesterday, she had gotten much better at chess, thanks to the teens’ advice, though some of it conflicted. She didn’t get to play with John, though, and had wanted to see if she would fare any better against him now that she had a bit more practice.

Now that she has the time, however, her mind is occupied with what could possibly be happening to Lex and Ethan and Tom. John convinced her to play a game, but she was so distracted that he quickly won, and she didn’t want to play anymore.

“Hannah,” he told her as she was putting the pieces away, “I understand that you’re worried. I don’t think they should have gone outside either. But Lex can handle herself, as can Tom, and I’m sure Ethan can too. They’re going to a safe area, and they won’t be gone long.”

She knew he was right, but that didn’t stop her worrying. Lex and Ethan were her world. Without them, she was alone. And she didn’t want to imagine how Tim would react if he lost his dad.

Her thoughts consumed her until 11:45, at which point she realized they should be heading back soon. And an idea came to mind.

She ran downstairs to the front room and pulled a stool over to peek through the peephole. She could stay safe,  _ and _ keep lookout for when Lex would come back.

Her hopes fell when she looked through the peephole and saw it was painted over. She hopped down and moved the stool back, and then sat on it.

“It’s okay, Hannah.” Came John’s voice again. “They’ll be back soon, and you’ll be the first to greet them.” 

“What if they don’t come back?” She tried not to let her voice quiver.

“They will come back.” He assured.

_ “They will come back.”  _ Webby echoed.

“They will come back.” She tried to convince herself.

At twenty minutes past noon, they still had not returned. Hannah would not let this birthday be ruined by the deaths of her sister and brother and Tom. She unlocked the many locks, and opened the door. 

Hannah felt the dry wind blow through her hair, and stepped outside. It wasn’t until after the door shut that she remembered that she left the Warrior’s cap on her bed. 

And it was in that moment of realization that everything went wrong.


	12. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY UH TW: FREEZING/HYPOTHERMIA, ASPHYXIATION, AND ALL THAT @ A CHILD
> 
> HAVE FUN :>

She had felt so brave just moments ago, opening the door and stepping through. But as she heard the heavy door shut behind her, all that bravery was immediately gone.

“Hannah.” John sounded concerned, and a bit angry. “You need to go back inside.”

He was right. She knew he was right. But the doorknob wouldn’t turn. 

“Stuck.” She told him, and began to panic, trying to turn it. “Stuck, stuck, it’s stuck!”

_ "Calm, Hannah."  _ Came Webby's echoey voice.  _ "Calm." _

But Hannah could not stay calm for long. Her mind was reeling from fear, and regret. If she couldn't get inside, what could she do?

She could find Lex. Lex, Ethan, and Tom were still outside, and they would be getting home soon. Lex could keep her safe. They'd figure it out together.

"Hannah." John sounded stern as she began to walk away from the door, from the Professor's protected home. "You should stay put. Knock on the door, someone is bound to come by soon. Or Lex, she'll be coming back."

"Finding Lexie." She told him. "I'm gonna find Lexie. And I'll be safe with her."

"You will be safer if you stay put.  _ She'll  _ find  _ you _ ."

Hannah wasn't listening. She was heading down the slope of the hill the Professor's house was on. She shuddered as she remembered the last time she was out here. 

Lex would protect her. Hannah just had to find her.

Since it was so close to when they were supposed to be back, Hannah expected to find the group coming up the hill. But as the minutes passed and she continued down the hill, there was still no sign of them. 

At the bottom of the hill, Hannah sat in some bushes and cried. She was certain John and Webby were talking to her, likely telling her to go back to the Professor's house, but she couldn't hear them over her own worries and tears. She was alone, outside, and her sister was missing. 

Time passed, and Hannah calmed down. She had to be brave, she reasoned with herself. She had to be brave for Lex. She had to find her. Hannah would  _ not  _ lose her sister. Not on her birthday, not on any day. Not if she had something she could do about it.

Hannah hopped out of the bushes and continued heading into town, further than she had been since Black Friday. It had only been a month, but it already felt like so long ago.

Hatchetfield was in ruins. There wasn't really a better way to put it. When Emma had lead the group (so many of them, then) to the Professor's house, there was still chaos in the streets. People still under the influence of Wiggly. There were fires, car crashes, screaming, blood, buildings collapsing…

Now it was just quiet. Not even birds chirped. The wind made no noise as it passed through the limbs of the barren trees.

There was still snow, however. Hatchetfield never got a ton of snow, usually just barely enough for some sledding, but it was cold nonetheless. Walking down the hill, Hannah barely registered it. She was so confident that she would be meeting Lex within  _ moments  _ that the weather had little effect on her. Now, the cold stung. She could feel it through her shoes and socks, and shoved her hands in her pockets to keep them as warm as she could.

Why had Lex come out here in the snow? Just a few days ago, not even a week, Hannah was out here with Tim and while it was cold, there was no sign of snow. Then again, the Professor had very few windows in his house (something about lightning) and she hadn't been out since. It seemed pretty fresh, it may have been the night before. Or, worse yet, it started snowing while Lex was out.

Looking around, Hannah couldn't spot any footprints that weren't her own. It must have snowed while Lex was out. And that was why she hadn't come back! The group was stuck somewhere because of the snow.

Hannah wasn't afraid of a little snow. If Lex needed to be dug out, then she would dig. It would sting, but not for long. 

Periodically, John and Webby would speak up again, trying to convince her to turn back, return to the Professor's house, that Lex and the group would be back soon enough. 

Every time she would refuse, argue with them briefly, and stubbornly continue on. She was close, she could sense it. Like a string, leading her along through the snowy ruins of the town.

After at least an hour of walking, if not more, the cold was really getting to her. Her whole body trembled violently, and she could barely feel her toes. It had begun snowing again, coating her hair and eyelashes. 

She intended to blink, but her eyes stayed closed longer than she intended, and when she opened them again, she was tripping, falling face-first into the snow. It was so cold. She took her hands out of her pockets to push herself up, and the snow stung her palms. Sitting on her knees, she wiped the snow out of her face and clapped her hands together.

"Hannah," John's voice sounded more urgent every time he spoke up, and this time he sounded truly scared. "You  _ need  _ to go back. It's too cold, too unsafe. At this point you risk death. Do you really want to do this to your sister? She's probably waiting for you back to the house."

_ "Please, Hannah."  _ Webby urged, and she sounded scared too.  _ "Be safe. Inside. Home. Warm." _

"Warm…" She echoed. For the first time, the scales tipped in her protector's favor, and she stood, dejected and cold.

As she was turning around, something in the snow caught her eye.

"Footprints." She pointed them out, and for a moment, felt heat rise in her face and chest. "Footprints. Footprints, footprints!"

"Hannah, no, that could be anyone!" John warned her, raising his voice slightly.

But she was already running through the snow, following the footprints. They led into a little clearing, which after a moment, Hannah recognized as a town square, where there used to be Christmas tree lightings and other holiday celebrations.

She looked around the clearing; there were no more footprints. They stopped here.

"Hannah," came John's voice again, softer, and filled with concern. "You need to go home. Or at least take shelter. If you're out here by nightfall…" He trailed off, but she understood what he meant.

Something in Hannah wouldn't let go, and she cried, making her face all the colder.

"Lexie!!" She called out. "Ethan! Tom! Lexie…"

Amidst her tears and shouts, Hannah heard someone crunching through the snow. She whipped around, heart pounding,  _ praying  _ that she would see her sister, or Ethan, or Tom. Someone to help her home. Someone to help her feel warm.

However, she was met with a face she didn't recognize. A man, with a thick black vest, and tall boots. On his head was a funny black hat, and his dirty-blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, with a matching beard. He looked at her with intense blue eyes, and a curious expression.

She took a step back, and he smiled at her. His teeth were straight and clean. "Hello, there."

"Wh-Who a-are you?" She stuttered, both from fear and from the cold.

"Hannah, get away from him." John commanded, voice cold. "Now. Run."

And as he spoke, she recognized the man's voice.

"J-John?" She asked, tentative.

He nodded, and then held a hand over his chest. "General John McNamara, at your service. You are?"

"Ha-Hannah."

"Good to meet you, Hannah." He looked at her closely. "Why are you all alone?"

" _ Hannah. _ " The John in her head spoke up again. "You need to get away from him!"

"He's  _ y-you!" _ She whispered, but the other John heard and stepped forward.

"Who is me?" He continued to creep towards her. "Are you alright, Hannah?"

"Fi-Fine." She stepped back. "Y-You… From a d-di-different dimension? P-Portals?"

Recognition shined in his eyes when she mentioned the portals, and he nodded. "We came through one. Did you?"

"N-No." She shook her head. "We?"

"Yes. Me and my squad, and my family. Lots of us."

"Fam-Family?"

"Yes! I could take you to them. We have a base, it's warm."

"Warm…" She echoed. It was tempting. But she shook her head. "Go-Gotta find L-Lexie."

"Lexie?" He tilted his head, never looking away from her.

"F-Family."

He nodded. "I see. Well, we have found a few people in our time here. Some of them have joined us. Perhaps Lexie is there."

_ "Hannah!"  _ Webby yelled, and Hannah flinched.  _ "Run! Bad double! Blue! Apotheosis!" _

Hannah covered her ears. She just wanted Lex. She just wanted to be warm. She just wanted to go home. She just wanted everything to turn out okay, like how she wished.

Besides, the John in front of her, the physical one… he wasn't singing, or dancing, or glowing. He was nice. She wanted to trust him. She wanted to play chess with him. 

"Hannah." She opened her eyes, her head clear. He was kneeling right in front of her now, intense blue eyes staring into her own timid brown ones. He smiled at her again, all teeth. "Would you like to meet my family? I promise you won't be cold anymore."

She was too cold. Too scared. Too alone. Too desperate.

"Y-Yes. Please."

John smiled wider. He put a hand on either of her shoulders.

_ "I know you from another life. _

_ I've seen your face before, _

_ As part of the hive _

_ You will be now, if you weren't before." _

She felt a rush of adrenaline, and suddenly wasn't cold. But it was too late. His hand wrapped around her neck, and lifted her up as he stood, and continued to sing.

_ "Poor child! You will die so young. _

_ Over and over again _

_ Give up the pain and sadness _

_ Through apotheosis, you will be reborn." _

In her head, she could hear Webby and  _ her  _ John frantically telling her what to do, how to escape, to fight back. Hannah wasn't registering any of it. She barely heard them over the blood rushing to her ears, and her own thoughts, and the not-John's singing.

_ "Come now child, and sing with me! _

_ Sing to the heavens, smiling with glee!" _

She couldn't breathe. It was so cold. He said it wouldn't be cold anymore. Why did she trust him? Why was she so stubborn? If she had just stayed inside, none of this would've happened. She would be safe and warm. She would be with Lex. Celebrating her birthday.

_ "Come now, child, the time has come! _

_ Go to sleep, it'll hurt you none." _

Go to sleep? That sounded nice. For a while now she had really wanted to just lie down and go to sleep. It would be much more comfortable, she was sure. Maybe even warmer…

_ "Join the hive! And feel alive! _

_ A better life than you've ever known. _

_ Join the hive! And have no fear! _

_ Stay with us, and be safe, my dear. _

_ Stay with us, and be safe, my dear. _

_ Stay with me and be safe, my dear…" _

Could she really stay safe with him? His voice sounded softer, and his expression had shifted similarly. Or maybe Hannah was just losing consciousness. Everything seemed blurry and soft. She couldn't breathe. She had never been so cold in her life.

The not-John had brought her closer, and her feet could almost touch the ground. She once again looked into his eyes, which now seemed more confused than anything else. She distantly thought it was odd that he had never seemed malicious. Maybe the other infected she had seen were just bad at hiding.

_ "I know you in another life. _

_ With me you'll be safe and sound. _

_ A child's place isn't in the army, _

_ Nor is it six feet underground. _

_ Join the Hive, Hannah! _

_ And I will keep you safe. _

_ Don't you know my face…?" _

She didn't know his face. But she was seeing double. There was another John, further back. He seemed weak and… glitchy. Fading in and out of her quickly dying vision.

_ "...I've known you in another life. _

_ We swear we've known you, in another life…" _

As he sung what she figured were the last notes of the song, she heard a loud bang, felt herself fall to the cold ground, and her vision went dark as she lost consciousness. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro, last chapter, this chapter, and next chapter were all gonna be one chapter originally, lmao. also I will update this with a link to the song once I've recorded it ((yes I wrote the song!! its called In Another Life))


	13. Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey more warnings about asphyxiation and hypothermia in a child yeehaw

He never should've let this happen.

Yes, he warned her several times. Ordered her to leave, run away, go home. He couldn't make her obey. That's just how kids were.

But the blame was still his own. Hannah wasn't his daughter, but he was protecting her, along with Webby. 

And he had failed. His infected doppelganger choked Hannah to death, and John could do nothing but watch.

Webby was on his shoulder, still trying to reach out to Hannah, to get her out of the situation. John's mind spun as he desperately searched for a solution, a way he could save her.

He pulled his hair, unable to look away. If only he wasn't trapped here. If he was in the real world, he could save Hannah. He could have prevented this. 

In the midst of his self-loathing, John was struck with an idea.

"I'll save her." He said, taking Webby off his shoulder. She hissed at him.

_ "How??? Stuck, stuck, dying…" _

"I broke out when I reached out to Lex." He reminded her. "I'll do it again. Maybe I can stay out long enough to get him to let go of her, so she can get away."

_ "Impossible." _ Webby stated.  _ "John. Hannah. Both die." _

"If I die, then so be it." He took a few steps forward, so he could see Hannah's face, which was rapidly turning blue and purple. "At least she'll be alive." He turned around, and looked down at Webby with an intense expression. "Make sure she gets home."

The spider gave him a barely-discernible nod before vanishing.

He took a deep breath. Behind him, he heard himself singing. He's never been that good a singer. Ed always said he went too high too quickly. The only rhythm he could keep was a marching order.

He also heard Hannah's ragged breaths, slower each time. She would die if this didn't work.

John ran. He ran as fast as he could, as hard as he could, beyond the point that he was safe to move in. It hurt. He felt the Black and White eat away at him again, like it had before he stumbled upon Hannah. He felt himself disintegrating into the void.

But he kept onwards. Each step was a struggle, each breath was a war. But he kept going. Step by step. Through the Black and White. With all his might, he did his best to fight his way through, to cut through the Black and White with a blade of truth.

He could hear nothing but static, the singing of his counterpart and Hannah's weak breathing long gone. He saw nothing but darkness. He felt nothing at all.

Then, he felt like he was floating, and saw a bright light ahead. It looked so comforting, so welcoming…

He refused to go near it. He turned away. He reached out into the nothingness and took hold of it. He pulled and pulled and pulled until he heard it.

A shattering noise, the likes of which he had never heard before. He felt himself falling backwards, being torn apart, the breaking reverberating in his ears, he could feel the noise down to his very bones, it was so, so  **_overwhelming._ **

John covered his ears and let himself fall, squeezing his eyes shut. It felt like forever, but eventually, he hit the ground. It felt cold, and crunchy.

The shock of the cold caused him to bolt upright, to open his eyes, to take his hands off his ears.

Around him was the ruins of Hatchetfield, covered in snow. The sky above him was blue-grey, and behind him, he could hear singing.

John whipped around. Before him stood his double, still singing, still choking Hannah. She was fading fast. 

Not thinking, John pulled out his gun and shot the other him, who immediately dropped Hannah. She fell into the snow and didn't get up.

Before he could even think to hope it wasn't too late, the other John turned around, blue slime leaking from his mouth, and from where he had been shot in the shoulder. He looked at John, curious.

"Now where did you come from?"

John didn't answer. He thought that if he opened his mouth then, all that would come out was a scream. He raised his gun and shot his double until he didn't have any bullets left. 

The alien fell to the ground beside Hannah, bleeding blue, a twisted smile remaining on his face alongside long-dead, unnaturally blue eyes.

John put his gun in it's holster and ran to Hannah's side. The young girl was breathing, but faintly. Being in the snow wouldn't help her chances of survival.

He reached to pick her up, hoping to get her to safety, but he couldn't. His hands phased right through her.

" _ Fuck. _ " He hissed, glaring at his hands for not doing their job.

Upon closer examination, John noticed there was something wrong with his hands. They would sometimes fade into being see-through, other times glitch out for a moment only to come back just the same.

He sighed as he figured what must have happened. Yes, he technically broke out of the Black and White, at least enough to help Hannah, but he still wasn't  _ really _ there. In fact, looking around, the world was slowly closing in on him, fading into the void, save for a twelve-foot radius around Hannah, which remained as detailed and colorful as the whole town had seemed just moments before.

Looking back at Hannah, John frowned as he saw there was already a bruise around the young girl's neck from where his double had strangled her. 

"So this is what Webby saw." He muttered, attempting to brush her bangs out of her face and only succeeding in phasing through her again.

Speaking of Webby, he couldn't see her, but distantly heard her voice. She was talking, constantly, about Hannah, about him, about the infected, and so on and so forth. He only hoped she would calm down before Hannah woke up.

_ If  _ Hannah woke up.

~~~

Hannah didn't remember a time without Webby. As far as she knew, the space spider had been with her since the moment she was born. Many of her earliest memories involve Webby. She was a welcomed presence, even when people didn't think she was real.

Hannah did, however, remember a time before John. It wasn't hard, he hadn't been with her for very long. Even with the world ending, she never would've thought she needed him. She certainly never would've thought he'd be the one to finally kill her. She always thought that would be her mother.

Hannah remembered the first time she heard John's voice. It was Black Friday, just before midnight, mere moments before the bomb went crashing into the Nantucket Bridge.

They needed a place to stay, somewhere safe. Emma had suggested the Professor's house.

"Well, I hope he doesn't mind us showing up unannounced." Paul said, adjusting his scarf. "We can't call him, the phones stopped working - I don't even know what time it is. What am I supposed to do without my iPhone?"

And from within her mind, she heard a scoff, and a man's voice. "Wear a watch."

Without thinking, she echoed. "Wear a watch."

Lex gave her a hug, thinking it was a clever quip, and Tom, who had a watch, announced that it was 11:57.

As they talked, gathered the group who would eventually make their way to the Professor's house, and counted down the minutes, Hannah's mind raced.

For one, Webby was giving her a warning that would come to be her morning reminder;  _ "Tomorrow will come, tomorrow won't come."  _ She still wasn't sure what it meant.

The other part of her mind was wondering where on Earth that voice come from. She had never heard it before.

It wasn't until the bomb landed that she heard it again. It was sad. "Surely revenge for Moscow… but why here?"

He didn't sound like he was talking to Hannah, so she didn't respond. She didn't know the answer anyway.

The man didn't talk much. Webby didn't seem to acknowledge him. It wasn't until a couple days later, at the Professor's house, when he finally addressed her.

"Hannah Foster." He said, and she froze. "That's your name, right?"

She stayed still. After a moment he continued. "I don't mean to scare you. But it seems I'm sticking around. Do you know where we are?"

After that, Webby had intervened. The two fought until she cried at the loudness, and Lex came to comfort her. After that it was a nearly daily occurrence. Somewhere along the way she had learned his name was John. It wasn't until recently they had even remotely become friends.

And then he had to go and kill her. Was this what all friends were like? Is everyone but Lex and Webby bad?

Hannah had thought John was bad for most of the time she had known him. She didn't want to think that way anymore.

Really, she just wanted to sleep. It was so cold. She wanted to wrap herself up in a blanket and go to bed.

But she didn't even know where she was. It was dark, and cold, and she was alone. That's all she knew. 

Was this what death felt like?

She felt something under her neck, but only for a moment. It happened again with her bangs. After that, nothing. She frowned. What had touched her? It was warm. She wanted that warmth.

Hannah fought to open her eyes. She hadn't even realized they were closed until she tried to open them. It felt like an uphill battle against herself. It was so cold, and she just wanted to sleep. But she had to know what that warmth was.

Eventually, she got them open. Above her was a blue-grey sky, a bit of snow on the edge of her vision, some of it tinted pale blue. And, at her side, sat a man. He had shoulder-length dirty-blond hair, let loose, and a matching beard. On his head was a funny black hat, and he wore a thick, black vest. He wasn't looking at her, but he seemed very upset and worried.

Hannah knew his face, knew his silly hat. It was John. He hadn't killed her. But he was still here, and she was so cold. She couldn't outrun him. How could she escape?

Thinking for a moment, Hannah decided she would run or die trying. She forced herself up, ran a few feet, and promptly tripped into the snow.

So it was die trying.

"Hannah!" Came his voice, and as she sat up, he was kneeling by her side. She backed away, freezing tears pricking at her eyes. 

"G-Go! Go away!" She kicked snow at him, and to her surprise, it did nothing. It seemed to go right through him.

John kneeled before her, not moving. He watched her for a moment with soft brown eyes. After a moment of tense silence and neither moving (except for Hannah's shivering), he spoke.

"Can you see me?"

Hannah found this to be a ridiculous question. "Y-Yes."

He nodded. "Hannah, I'm the real John. The other one is…" He trailed off, looking back towards where she had woken up. She followed his gaze and saw, amidst the white show, a lot of blue, and the bottom of a pair of military boots.

She looked back at him. "H-How? How a-are you he-here?"

He shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes. "I'm not sure. Webby didn't think I could break out of the Black and White without destroying myself, but…" He raised his hand and looked at it. "It seems I'm relatively in one piece."

Hannah, feeling brave but mostly cold, reached out to touch his hand. She felt nothing, phasing right through him. He frowned, and set his hand down.

"I'm still not  _ here, _ " he told her, "but at least I stopped that madman." He looked back at Hannah with intense eyes that she quickly looked away from. "You need to go home."

She nodded.

"You should have listened the first time."

She nodded.

"Me and Webby  _ both _ warned you!"

She nodded, and flinched slightly at his louder tone.

John sighed. When she looked at him, he seemed sad.

"Please… Please never do anything like that again. Your sister couldn't bear to be without you. And…" He trailed off, a deep frown on his face.

"I-I'm sorry." She whispered, teeth chattering.

He looked at her again, and nodded. "Let's get you home."

He stood, and offered a hand. She took it, but once again phased through, and both of them huffed with annoyance. Hannah stood on her own, and she trudged through the snow. John walked beside her, silent, not even the snow acknowledging his presence.

As they walked, following her own footprints back, it got colder. The sun was beginning to set. Stupid winter and the early nights. Worse yet, it had begun snowing again, and Hannah was quickly losing track of her footprints. Not to mention how cold she was.

She stumbled, and sat up, but felt weak. She wasn't sure she could stand, and once again she was on the verge of tears.

John kneeled beside her. "We're going to get through this, Hannah." His voice was soft, but she could hear that he was scared.

He looked around, surveying the area, and pointed to a house nearby. "Can you get inside there?"

It wasn't too far away. She nodded, and forced herself to stand. He stood beside her, angled like he would catch her if she fell, but both knew he wouldn't be able too.

She made it to the door. It was locked. 

John tentatively raised his hand and put it through the door, and then peeked his head through, and finally stepped in fully. A few moments later, he returned. "The window is unlocked. You just have to open it."

Hannah could barely feel her fingers, but she needed to try. Stumbling over to the window, she grabbed the bottom, and recoiled. It was metal, and freezing. She may be losing feeling in her hands, but the shock of the cold metal was still painful, if not slightly dulled.

John frowned, and tried to open it himself. When he couldn't, he held his breath, clearly upset, before slowly releasing it. "Okay. I'm sorry, but you have to do this. This house is still stable, and it looks well-furnished. Once you're inside, you'll be able to get warm, and wait out the snow."

She nodded. It was this or risk dying, again. She grabbed the window again, the cold metal stinging her palms. She forced it up, and pulled herself inside, quickly shutting it behind her before too much snow could get in.

Once inside, she sat down, dizzy. John was looking around again, but stayed within the room.

She was tired, and cold. But she was safe now. Surely it was okay to rest her eyes for a bit…

"Hannah!" John's voice startled her awake. He was in front of her again, fear apparent on his face until she jolted forwards, and it melted into tense relief.

"You can sleep soon, Hannah. There's a bedroom just beyond the living room, and from what I can see there are blankets. You'll be able to warm up."

Hannah nodded. She stood, shaky, and John rose with her. He was much taller, at least as tall as Tom, but something seemed different about him now that they were inside.

As she walked to the bedroom, she figured it out. He was see-through. She could've sworn he wasn't before.

The bedroom was just as John said it was. The window was closed, there were blankets on the bed, and it overall felt pretty warm. She was exhausted.

But before she even climbed under the covers, she froze. There was a voice, coming from nearby.

"Not alone." She whispered, beginning to panic. She didn't want to face another infected. Her neck still hurt. 

John was tense too, seeming more solid for a moment. He stood by the door, listening… and then he relaxed slightly. "I know that voice." He told her, stepping outside the room. She followed him down the hall into a kitchen. On the counter, alongside some rotted fruit, was a radio.

"We've made our way through Virginia, Maryland, Delaware, and West Virginia." The voice said, sounding very professional. "Currently, we are searching Pennsylvania, North Carolina, and parts of Kentucky and Ohio. With our limited supplies and personnel, we can't work nearly as fast as we'd like, but I assure you. If you're listening to this broadcast, or even if you aren't, we will find you. We aren't giving up on you. This is a time to stand together, to work together. To love thy neighbor we will find thy neighbor, and together we can rebuild. As always, I ask anyone who can hear me to try your best to reach out. These announcements are weekly, but this channel is always open. If you have the ability to send any kind of radio signal, do so, so that we know you're out there. I wish you all good luck, and a merry Christmas. This is President Howard Goodman, signing off."

The broadcast turned to static, and then the static stopped. John nodded at the radio, smiling.

"President?" Hannah asked. "You kn-know the President?"

"We worked together, once." John told her. "On Black Friday. He went into the Black and White to negotiate with Wiggly, a futile battle I now see… But I'm glad he made it out alright. I'm glad he's looking for people."

Hannah looked at the radio for a long moment. It looked to either have a very long battery life, or it was somehow solar powered. She turned it off and took it with her into the bedroom.

Now that the house was officially safe, Hannah truly was exhausted. She climbed into the bed, under the covers, setting the radio on the nightstand beside it. John sat on the edge of the bed, looking off at the wall.

"Sleep?" She asked him, yawning.

John shook his head. "I don't really get tired anymore. I'm sorry for staying near you, though. I can't go too far."

"Or you get hurt?"

"Exactly."

She nodded, closing her eyes. "'s okay. You be the lookout."

She heard him chuckle. "Yes, of course."

Hannah smiled, and before falling asleep, she opened her eyes again, wanted to look at him once more, to get all the details that made him different than the John that attacked her. But when she looked, he was no longer there.

"John?"

"Yes?" She heard him respond, but couldn't see him.

"You're gone…"

He took a moment to respond. "I suppose I'm back in the Black and White. It makes sense that I could only be out there for so long…" He sighed. "But you shouldn't worry about that. I'm still here, even if you can't see me. Get some rest."

That, she could do, and gladly would. Hannah fell into a dreamless sleep quickly, as the snow continued outside.

~~~

Elsewhere, a thin circle of light was cutting through the snow. It swirled and slowly filled, until the translucent hole stood strong in the snowstorm, unnoticed.

After hours of quiet, as the snow began to cease, a man came flying through the portal, landing backwards in the snow. He fired his gun through the circle, hitting nothing, and then sat, bewildered, as he observed his new surroundings. While he was distracted, the portal closed.

He stood, shivering, and promptly zipped up his jacket, glad that it kept warmth so well. Realizing he was no longer in imminent danger, he put his gun away as well, hiding it in the deep pockets of his slacks (which were made for looking suave, not for traversing snow).

The man took a moment more to observe his surroundings, as he was trained to do. He didn't recognize any buildings, or anything at all.

He sighed. "Well, fuck." And took out a flask. Shit like this is why he never quit drinking. At least the snow would keep his whiskey cold.

He pocketed the drink and began trudging through the snow to seek shelter until he could figure out what the hell was going on.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one: yes I know Jeff's eyes are blue. they don't fit the vibe for John, sorry.  
> two: hee hee hee hoo hoo hoo any guesses who came through the portal???


	14. Personal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the comments ;^; I love.... getting comments,.... even if its just y'all guessing, it brings me so much joy... so thank you!!!!! love you!!!

Hannah woke to sunlight on her face for the first time in over a month. She opened her eyes and looked at the window, light peeking through the blinds. The Professor's house was lonely, separate, distant from the rest of the world. The windowless mound of grey was a home base, but not a home. 

"John?" She looked around the room. The radio was where she left it, the rest of the room untouched. No sign of John.

_ "Resting."  _ Webby told her.

"Hurt again?" She didn't want him to have hurt himself in saving her. Making it so Lex could hear him for a moment took him out for a whole day. Who knew how long he would be gone for because he did something so she could see him.

_ "Small hurt. All healed. Tired, stressed." _

Hannah nodded, sitting up. She was, admittedly, disappointed, until something dawned on her.

"Webby? Yesterday…" her hand went to her neck. It hurt when she put pressure on it, and she was certain there was a bruise. "John was there…. you were gone."

_ "No!"  _ Webby sounded indigent.  _ "Was here! Talked, talked lots! Very worried. Very scared…"  _ She sighed.  _ "Hannah ignore? Distracted? Cold? Couldn't hear?" _

Hannah thought. "I didn't hear you. I'm sorry, Webby."

_ "Believe you, Hannah."  _ Her voice was kind and comforting. But both wondered how, after thirteen years of constant communication, Hannah was suddenly, temporarily, unable to hear Webby.

Hannah's thoughts were interrupted when her stomach growled. She pulled away the covers. It was cold. She stood up and decided to wrap the comforter around herself, and go to see if anything in the kitchen was still edible.

She was met with rotting fruit, spoiled milk, and many more gross things, but she was able to find some cereal that had yet to expire, as well as some juice boxes. She put some in her pockets for later, drinking a few now and eating the cereal dry. The rest of it she wrapped up in it's bag, discarding the cardboard container, and also put it in her pockets. They were very full now. She wouldn't be able to fit her hands.

She heard a sharp intake of breath. "Hannah?" It was John!

She looked around, calling his name. For a moment, as she looked back in the bedroom, she saw a ghost of him, barely visible. Just visible enough to see the fear on his face melt into relief as he disappeared again.

"Good morning." He sighed.

"Thought you didn't sleep?" She asked, munching on some cereal.

"I suppose phasing in and out of reality takes a lot out of you. Is the food safe?"

"Expires March 15th, 2019." She recited what she had read on the box, and envisioned him nodding. 

"Good, good. You need to eat. And we need to head back. You should look for a coat, or gloves, or both, ideally."

"How far away?" She looked to the front door. The house was cold, but it was much warmer than outside. She was afraid of getting lost, or worse.

"I'm not sure." John told her. "It's been a long time since I've been in Hatchetfield."

"Me too." Again, it had been over a month since Black Friday. Over a month since she had been in town.

It took a moment for John's words to sink in, and she looked over to where she figured he would be. "Been to Hatchetfield before?"

In his hesitation, she saw him slowly fade into existence, still very ghost-like, a thoughtful, conflicted look on his face, pointed at the dusty floor.

"Yes." He seemed to decide, nodding. "I… I lived here, for a while. Four years, when I was about your age."

"Family moved here?" She guessed. "Military?" She knew several people from military families who came to the island because they were stationed nearby.

John, however, shook his head. "No, I wasn't involved with the military until after I was adopted and moved to D.C.."

"Adopted?"

"Yes. I… lost my family, when I was twelve." He immediately seemed tense, and depressed. "I was relocated to Hatchetfield, stayed here for four years. Then, the man who would become my father came to town…" He trailed off.

Hannah expected him to be happy, remembering his adoptive father fondly. But when she looked at his face, noticing he was becoming progressively more solid the more he talked, she saw quite the opposite. His eyes were hard and angry… and sad.

"Dad… bad?" She asked, unconsciously shrinking in on herself.

John looked at her, and the anger went away. He seemed to soften, and calm down. "No." He told her. "Not always. But that doesn't matter."

"Are you okay?"

The question seemed to take him by surprise. "Yes, why?"

Hannah shrugged, looking away. "Bad parents hurt."

John looked at her for a long moment. "Can you see me right now?" She nodded, and he stepped forward, his steps making no sound.

Hannah turned to face him, and he strictly avoided eye contact. He did, however, roll up the left sleeve of his shirt all the way to his shoulder. There were many scars, she assumed from his various military excursions, but on his shoulder there was a different type of scar. Burns, in distinct circles.

"Before I was adopted, I stayed with many foster families." He explained. "In one, the father smoked. It's how I got into it. Don't smoke, by the way." Hannah couldn't help but chuckle at that, and he did too.

"He didn't like how I acted. Jumping at loud sounds, stimming, not making eye contact, not to mention the trauma from before I came to Hatchetfield… so his solution was punishment. Human ashtray."

Hannah reached out to touch the burns, but despite his apparent-solidity, she still phased right through him. Both of them sighed.

John rolled his sleeve back down. "He warned me that if I ever told anyone, he'd kill me. So, naturally, I told the foster home when they came to check-up on me." 

He took a moment, and looked up at her, initially in the eyes before both parties moved more towards the ears or nose. "Sometimes, you have to be brave. Or else things will only get worse. It can be hard, very scary… but silence is scarier."

Hannah nodded. She wished she could hug him. "You are brave. I… try to be."

John smiled. "Trying is the best anyone can do."

Distantly, Hannah heard Webby, just as John was beginning to fade away again.

_ "Hannah brave!! Hannah fight infected!! Save Tim!! Look for Lex!! Very brave, very proud!!" _

"Yes," John added, "I'm proud too."

Hannah smiled, flushing. Usually she only got compliments from Lex, and even those were few and far between. Webby and John made her feel happy, safe, and wanted.

The morning was ushered along after that. John disappeared by the time she returned to the bedroom, but he helped her look through the closet to find a thick winter jacket, as well as some gloves. She put the little radio into one of the large pockets of the jacket, hoping it would be useful back at the Professor's house.

As ready as she could be, Hannah left the house.

It was still stingingly cold, but it was much warmer than the day before. She was feeling confident that soon, she would be reunited with her family.

It must have snowed overnight, as her footsteps were long gone, but the sun was out, so she was confident it would melt soon enough. That would make it warmer, too.

The hard part, however, was finding her way back. She was deep enough within the town that she couldn't see the hill the Professor's house was on, so she couldn't use that as a landmark.

She did, however, remember how to get there from the mall. All she had to do was find it again.

After a bit of wandering and talking, Hannah was feeling tired. She broke out one of the juice boxes, quietly sipping it as she stomped through the snow, doing her best to follow in the footsteps.

Hannah froze. The footprints she was stepping in were larger than her own. Her hand went to her neck as she remembered the day before, panicking, afraid that the other John would come back to finish the job.

_ "Hannah?"  _ Webby asked her, concerned.

John piped up. "Footprints." He whispered, unnecessarily. "Be careful. We should get out of this area."

Not willing to risk it, Hannah nodded and turned around, going back the way she came. There soon became two sets of footprints, one of hers and one of some mysterious, probably-infected stranger. In her hurry, she picked the larger set.

After a bit, Hannah tripped, but caught herself before she fell. John and Webby advised her to slow down, and she did, continuing to follow the footprints in the melting snow. They led into a neighborhood, but not the one she had been staying in.

"Wait." John ordered, voice serious, and she complied.

She saw a faint ghost of him kneeling on the ground, looking at the footprints. "We aren't going away from these prints. We're following them."

Hannah kneeled beside him and looked. Sure enough, the footprints were heading  _ into  _ the neighborhood, not out of it. She had been going the wrong way the whole time, walking straight into danger.

She tried not to panic. It was as easy as turning around. But just as she was about too, there was a voice.

"Hey, kid!" Hannah looked up. Across the street, on the porch of a house, was a man wearing a black and red leather jacket and dress pants. He was far away, so she couldn't quite see his face, but he felt familiar.

"Do you live here?" He asked. She backed up.

"No, no, it's okay! I'm not gonna hurt you or anything, kid, I'm just… I'm not from around here, I think. Just looking for some help."

"Run, Hannah!" John told her. He was a ghost beside her.

She didn't question him, yesterday had taught her not too. She turned around and ran, not caring what direction.

"Hey, wait!" She heard the man call. Looking over her shoulder, she saw he was following her. Not only that, he was fast, and quickly gaining on her.

Thinking fast, Hannah turned a corner and ran into the nearest house, feeling lucky that the door was unlocked.

Dashing through the house, she ran into a bedroom and slipped under the bed, holding her breath, just like Lex taught her.

She stayed still, eyes closed, breath quiet, for several minutes. When she opened her eyes, she saw boots. Her heart raced until she realized they were see-through, and that it was John, standing guard.

Outside the bedroom, she heard footsteps, and a voice.

"Hey, kid?" It was the same man. "I promise I'm not gonna hurt you. I'll help you, if you need it! I just need a little guidance around the city. I haven't met anyone else."

"He's coming into the room." John warned her. "Stay quiet, stay hidden."

She listened, breathing as slowly and quietly as she could, not moving another muscle otherwise. She heard the man's footsteps as he carefully paced around the room.

"Maybe I should introduce myself. I'm Frank." He walked around the bed, by the window. "...Frank Carvour. I do a lot of… odd jobs, we'll call them, heh. I like a good whiskey and a good laugh… I guess that's not something to tell a kid."

Frank continued around the room for a bit, giving random facts about himself. Finally, before John or Hannah could react, he crouched by the bed.

"Hi. You okay?"

Hannah shrunk away from him, popping out the other side of the bed and standing. Frank stood with her, very calm. John was beside him, ghostly but becoming more solid.

Now that they were closer, Hannah could get a good look at the man's face. He was familiar. And after a moment, Hannah realized why.

She had seen him in a dream. A man with a square face and soft edges, framed by short, neatly-combed black hair, and almond-shaped eyes with blue-brown irises.

She saw him there, watching someone fall, presumably to their death. She saw him there, standing below another person, gun raised, ready to kill. 

She backed up into the wall. She turned, hoping to open the window and jump out, but it was locked, and she had no time.

"Listen, I know this is a weird situation, but you don't have to be afraid of me." Frank tried to reassure her.

Hannah looked over to John. He seemed to recognize the man too. He looked back at her, eyes serious. "Run. You can get past him. Go as fast as you can."

He didn't have to tell her twice. Hannah ran past him, out of the bedroom, and out of the house.

Frank followed her, still shouting. Once again, he was gaining on her.

John was beside her. "Up ahead, there's an opening to the sewer. Go down it."

It sounded gross, but she would listen. She ran faster, harder, and ran straight into the bars of the sewer tunnel, but then slipped through them and hid deeper within. It was warmer than she expected, and not as smelly.

Soon, Frank came into view. He looked around, having lost her, but spotted her footprints and approached the sewer.

"Kid, I can't fit in here, I don't think." He announced, and Hannah sighed with relief.

Instead of giving up, he continued to stand in front of it.

"I haven't been entirely honest with you. But you keep running away from me, haven't even told me your name, and so on and so forth, so honestly? I think we're even."

John was beside her, ghostly again and fading slowly. "This tunnel surely leads somewhere. You should be able to get away from him."

"Infected?" She whispered.

She saw John sigh and shrug. "I'm not sure. But better safe than sorry. I'm not risking you getting hurt again."

Frank stuck his head through the bars. "Are you talking to someone back there? I can barely hear you." He chuckled.

"Go away!" She shouted, and he frowned.

"I would love too, kid, but you are literally the only person I have met so far, and I have reason to believe there isn't anyone else here."

John frowned. "He doesn't act like an infected."

_ "Infected tricky."  _ Webby warned.

"Look, how about this." Frank interrupted. "If you can point me in the direction of literally any other living human being then I'll le-"

Frank cut himself off, turning around. Apparently seeing nothing, he carefully stepped away from the sewer, a hand creeping towards a pocket in his pants.

Hannah creeped forward a bit too, listening. After a moment, she heard the crunch of footsteps in the melting snow, even though her and Frank had stopped moving, and John's footsteps didn't make any sound.

She watched Frank look around, and apparently find where the footsteps were coming from.

She saw his jaw drop, she saw him take a step back, she saw him pull a gun out of his pants pocket.

"How are you here?!" He demanded, a tinge of fear in his voice.

Hannah watched as a second man stepped into view from the sewer. He wore a brown jacket, had black hair slicked back, and thin blue eyes on an angular face.

The second man smiled. "Hello, Curt."

"Curt?" John asked. "Damn liar. I knew he was untrustworthy."

Frank, or Curt, apparently, took another step back. "How are you here." He asked again, calmer this time, more as a statement.

"I'm not sure, love." The second man looked around at the snowy ruins. "I just woke up here. I'm surprised to see you. How are you? It's been a while, hasn't it?"

She saw Curt's hands shake, and the gun slowly lower.

"Owen," he sighed, shaking his head. "You shouldn't be here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anybody who guessed Curt, you were right! congrats!  
> now that we're finally here, I'd like to say. curt and owen are responsible for me actually writing this fic. like, I had the idea for the John & Hannah aspect and I thought it would be fun, but then I had the idea for the curt & Owen aspect and was like. "well, now I have to do it." so everyone say thank you curt & Owen lmao


	15. Owen

Curt was distracted by this newcomer, Owen, which gave Hannah the chance to escape through the sewer. Curt said he didn't think he'd fit through, but Owen was much thinner. They clearly recognized eachother, and she worried they'd team up and attack her.

Unfortunately, the tunnel only went another twenty feet or so before becoming too small for even Hannah to fit through. The only way out was the way she came in.

"I'm sorry." John sighed, and she faintly saw him look back at the entrance to the sewer. "Maybe they'll go away if you stay hidden."

Webby seemed to agree, so Hannah stuck to the shadows and watched the two men talk. As she sat, she tasted blood, and wiped it away; her nose was bleeding. Touching it even a little hurt. Running straight into metal bars was not her brightest idea.

Meanwhile, Curt had not put away the gun, but it was low enough that, if he were to shoot, it would only hit Owen's legs. Despite being calmer than he was initially, Hannah still got the sense that he was afraid. Owen, meanwhile, stood still and casual. When he took a step forward, Curt took a step back, keeping the distance.

The conversation was largely an exchange of confusion.

"Why shouldn't I be here?" Owen asked. He had a posh accent, and Hannah thought that in another situation, his voice would be soothing.

"Because I-" Curt choked on his words. "...You should know why. Zombies can remember shit, right?"

Owen gave a short, scripted laugh. "I'm not a zombie, Curt. Put that gun away, it's cold out here. Just sapping your heat."

Curt did not do so. "You've gotta be. There's no other way you can be here."

"How are you so sure?"

"Because I _killed you,_ God damn it!" Curt shouted, and Hannah flinched. She knew it. She saw him do it.

Owen laughed again. "I know. You did it twice, actually."

Curt looked defeated. She saw his arms shaking. "Thanks for reminding me."

"What makes you think I couldn't come back again?"

Curt didn't respond, but she saw him raise his head slightly.

Owen grinned. "I came back again, Curt. And this time, things can be better."

"Better?" Curt echoed.

"Much, much better. I know a place where we don't have to worry about being caught, about agencies, about anything." Owen offered his hand. "It's a paradise. You can drink all day, and no one will bat an eye."

Curt looked at Owen's hand for a long time. He tentatively reached out and touched it with his right hand, his left still holding the gun. He seemed to decide that it was real, and Owen intertwined their fingers, stepping closer.

"If this paradise is death, I don't think I can come with you." Curt sighed. "I've got stuff to do."

"I know." Owen reassured. "But there are others who can take care of it. Not everything is on your shoulders, Curt."

Before Curt could respond, Owen cupped his face with his other hand, causing the smaller man to jump in surprise. 

"It's not hard to get too, I promise." Owen smiled, leaning closer. "We'll get you out of the cold in no time."

For a moment, Hannah saw Curt's eyes close, and he also leaned closer, before he suddenly tensed and shoved Owen away, both taking several steps back.

Curt looked into the sewer, and Hannah held her breath.

"What?" Owen sounded annoyed, following his gaze.

"There was a kid." Curt explained. "She was the only other person I'd seen, until you showed up. Ran in here."

Owen walked to Curt's side, never looking away from the sewer. "What did she look like?"

"Brown hair, braids. Big, heavy jacket on, and jeans."

"Was she wearing a baseball cap?" Owen asked, almost cutting him off.

"No." He turned to look at Owen. "Why, have you seen her?"

Owen did not look away from the sewer. "Me? No."

"So… someone else has? How many other people are here?"

"Not many. But she's with a rather stubborn little group. Worse than the lunatics by the bridge, by far."

Hannah tuned out their back-and-forth, thinking back to what John told her about the infected. That they lure people that the host knows in order to spread. They gain trust, and then attack, like the other John did to her.

She made her decision. Curt was not infected. But Owen was. Which meant that they were both in danger.

Gathering her courage, Hannah stepped out of the shadows, ignoring John and Webby's protests.

She walked towards the two, staying far enough away to not risk getting hurt. "Hello."

Curt jumped and looked at her, bewildered. "There you are, kid. Uh, you didn't see anything right?" He sounded almost desperate.

Owen, however, grinned. "Hello, Hannah."

Curt looked between the two. "So…. you know each other, then?"

Hannah looked into Owen's eyes. They were blue. Unnaturally so. She shook her head. "Never met _him._ "

Curt fixed his hair. "Okay, this is super cryptic and I hate it. We all know eachother, kind of, can we go?"

"He's infected." Hannah stated.

"Infected?" Curt asked. "Like, what, with the flu? A cold?"

"Aliens."

".....Aliens."

Hannah nodded.

Curt nodded vigorously. "Oh, yeah, definitely. Infected with aliens. That makes a _lot_ of sense. So much sense, in fact, tha-"

Hannah, annoyed, cut him off. "You know Owen?"

"Yes." Curt sighed. "We're.... old friends."

"Good." She looked back to Owen, who was scowling at her. "Are his eyes blue?"

"No," Curt shook his head, "they're brown. Like, honey brown, you know? Light mixed with some dark, and in the light they're _really_ pr-" He cuts himself off, looking nervous, and Hannah jumps on the opportunity.

She points at Owen. "His are blue. Because of the infected. They turn blue."

Curt was quiet for a moment, looking at Owen, who continued to glare at Hannah.

Finally, he found his voice again. "Who are you, really?"

Owen blinked hard and faced Curt with a smile. "Agent Owen Carvour, who else?"

Curt took a step back, eyes growing cold. "Whoever you are, you're a bad actor, and an idiot too. You think he'd just admit he's a spy, with a civilian right here?"

Hannah flinched as Curt's voice grew louder, taking a few steps back into the sewer.

Owen's smile had dropped. He was quiet for a moment, and then shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. I am Owen, _your_ Owen, as luck would have it." His accented voice then turned sinister. "But I suppose the man who killed me twice wouldn't bother remembering."

Curt shook his head. "Don't you turn this around on me."

"Then shoot me."

"What?"

Owen grinned, teeth stained blue, and held his arms out to his sides. "Shoot me. If you're so confident I'm not Owen it shouldn't be a problem killing him a third time, hm?"

Curt tensed, and raised the gun to Owen's head.

And after a few tense moments, he wavered, and lowered it again. Owen laughed, no longer scripted, but dark.

"I knew it."

"Sorry I don't want to see him die a third time." Curt spat.

"Hannah." John's voice cut into her eavesdropping. "They're distracted. Now's your chance. Sneak out and then run."

She crept towards the side of the sewer, almost tripping over a rock. She looked away to step through the bars, not wanting to slam into them like she had before, and in that moment everything fell to pieces.

When she looked back, Owen was directly in front of Curt, who was trembling with gun in hand, eyes hollow. And then she heard a haunting voice.

_"Once a spy,_

_Always a spy,_

_Forever, forever._

_The warmest hello_

_To the coldest goodbye,_

_Remember, remember._

_Spies never die~"_

Owen had grabbed Curt's wrist, moving it (and the gun) away from himself and twisting it harshly, causing Curt to shout in pain.

_"Spies are forever."_

The rock bounced off the back of Owen's head and hit the ground stained with an unnatural blue. He looked over to his assaulter, shoving Curt to the ground.

Hannah stood, hands shaking. Her plan had worked, but not as well as she had hoped. Now _she_ was the target, yet again.

"Hannah Foster, prophet of Hatchetfield." Owen smiled, eyes narrow. "We just keep running into eachother, don't we?"

"Not a prophet. Just a kid." She insisted. "Your bad. So we'll stop you."

"We?" Owen asked. "Who is we? You and your little tribe of rogues? You'll all join the Hive soon enough. Why not just come willingly? It truly is a paradise. You'll never be hurt again." He took a step forward. "Lexie can come too."

"No!" She screamed. "Stay away from Lexie! Stay away from my family!"

Owen stepped forward, and she stepped back, tripping into the snow. 

"You don't have that much of a say, child." He stood over her, dripping blue from his mouth, when a gunshot rang out, and he dripped blue from his chest as well. Hannah rolled to the side before he could fall on top of her.

Behind Owen, across the clearing, was Curt, gun still at the ready, now in the opposite hand. His eyes were red and his cheeks were wet, but once he noticed her, he quickly rubbed it all away.

"Hannah, right?" He asked. "Sorry, about him. I… should've done that way sooner."

Hannah stood up and walked over to him. "It's okay." She whispered. "I've lost friends, too."

He looked at her for a moment. "Your nose is bleeding."

She wiped it away and recoiled in pain when her hand bumped her nose again. "Sorry for running. Thought you were infected."

Curt shrugged. "Don't be, I can't blame you. Me chasing you and not really giving any good explanation certainly didn't help. Which reminds me…" He held his gun under his arm and offered his hand to shake. "I know I said I was Frank Carvour earlier but, uh. My real name is Curt Mega. Don't tell anyone, okay?"

She took his hand and shook it. "Cool name. Why not tell anyone?"

He laughed, briefly. "That's a secret, kid." He looked around. "So, listen. I have no idea how I got here. One second I was running from some….. people. And next I'm out in the snow. Do you know where we are?"

"Hatchetfield." She told him plainly.

Curt grumbled. "Great. No idea where the f-" He cut himself off with a cough. "Um. No idea where that is. So I probably haven't been here before."

"An island. In Michigan."

"Michigan has islands? Far out."

Hannah giggled. Who says _far out_ anymore? Curt, however, pouted.

"What? Sorry I don't know everything about a state I've never been too."

She shook her head but didn't explain. She quickly calmed down, and then remembered Owen's attack. "Hand okay?"

"Huh?" Curt raised his other hand. "Uh. It'll be fine." He shoved it into his jacket pocket. "Just gotta find a place to fix myself up. You happen to know anywhere?"

Hannah stayed quiet as she thought. He definitely wasn't infected. But does that mean she should bring him back? Ethan was different, she knew him, but Curt was a stranger. Not to mention, he was clearly dangerous. She saw him kill someone, she figured Owen, in her dreams, and then saw him kill Owen _again_ right in front of her, even with an injured hand.

Hannah suddenly remembered Owen, and looked over at his body. He hadn't moved, but she didn't want to risk it.

"Okay. Okay. Come on." She ran off, and Curt, confused, followed quickly behind her.

"Why are we running?" He wasn't even out of breath.

"Infected… get back up."

"Oh. Great."

They ran until Hannah tripped, and from then on they walked cautiously. Curt would stay quiet for long periods of time, and then talk incessantly for even longer periods of time, before repeating.

"Sorry," he muttered at one point. "I tend to bash ears, I know. You're actually taking me somewhere, right?"

Hannah nodded. "The Professor."

"A professor? Oh boy. How's the Teach like with newbies?"

Hannah made a face, and Curt sighed. "Well won't this be boss."

Hannah nodded. "He is the boss, mhm."

"No, I…" Curt trailed off. "Do you not know slang? Like, at all?"

She shook her head. "Lit."

"Lit what?"

"Nothing. Lit. Slang."

"I have never heard of that in my life and I've gotta be at least double your age."

She pouted. "Kids use slang. Never heard of boss."

Curt sighs. "I guess the world changes faster than you think. How old are you?"

"Thirteen. Birthday yesterday."

"Happy birthday, kid."

"Thank you. You?"

"My birthday?" Hannah nodded. "Uh. Classified."

"You have a lot of secrets?"

"You have no idea." He paused. "I hope."

She heard John sigh and mumble something. "What?"

Curt looked down at her. "What?"

"Not you." She looked around to see if John was visible.

"You… talk to other people?"

"Webby. Space spider. Black and White. Warns me." She explained, and then figured he probably didn't know anything about any of that. Regardless, she hesitated. "And John. General. Chess. Protector."

Curt didn't respond other than looking at Hannah strangely. She looked back at him for a moment and then down at the snow. It was the usual response, but it still hurt.

"Don't tell them about John, please."

Curt hummed. "Who?"

"Family. Friends."

He nodded. "Why not?"

She frowned at him. "I keep your secrets."

He shook his head. "No, no, I will. I was just wondering why. Do they not know?"

She shook her head. "Know about Webby. Not about John."

"I mean, what's one more voice gonna be to them?"

She stayed quiet. She just didn't want them to know. Some already found her strange for hearing Webby. She didn't want it doubled.

"Your nose is bleeding again." Curt pointed out, and she groaned, wiping it onto her already-bloody gloves, and yelping a bit when she hit her nose too hard.

Curt stopped walking. "Kid, let me see your nose."

She looked back at him. "It's fine."

"Pretty sure it's _broken_. We've gotta set it."

She crossed her arms. "No. It'll hurt."

Curt waved dismissively. "You're tough, you can take it. Besides, it's not good to leave it out of place like that."

Hannah didn't respond, and just continued pouting. 

"Look, Hannah." Curt stepped towards her. "I've set many a broken nose. It'll bleed less once it's fixed, too, and it only hurts for a second."

She stayed silent.

John piped up. "He's got a point. Better to fix it before it gets worse."

She sighed. "Fine." It came out as a mumble, but Curt still heard. He had her sit on the ground and held snow to her nose with his good hand (after putting his gun in his pocket, of course).

When she couldn't feel much of her nose anymore, Curt took his other hand out of his jacket pocket. When the sleeve moved up, she saw how red and swollen his wrist had gotten.

His hurt hand held her face, and his good one hovered over her nose. "Okay. This is gonna hurt. But once it's back in place it'll be much better. Ready?"

She wasn't, but nodded anyway.

"Count of three. One, two-" He quickly twisted her nose until it fit and then leaned back, letting her go. "Three! Okay! Should be good until we get to your Teach's place."

Hannah held her nose and tried not to cry. It was bleeding again, and she stayed leaning forward, watching the blood drip into the snow. But, like Curt said, it did feel better. The dull, constant pain she had been feeling the whole time subsided. And when she wiped the blood from her nose, touching it didn't hurt nearly as bad.

Once she was ready, they continued through the town. Soon enough, Hannah spotted the hill, and they began their ascent.

Curt was in one of his bouts of silence when he froze, looking around. Hannah stopped a few steps ahead of him and whispered. "What?"

"Heard something." This was far from the first time he had done this. Curt had become very paranoid very quickly, Hannah assumed. 

They stood silently for a few moments before Hannah, straining her ears, could hear a voice.

"...nah? Hannah!"

Hannah searched for the source. "Lexie!"

Curt raised an eyebrow. "You know who it is? You sure it's not a double? What'd you call 'em… infected?"

"Not infected." She insisted. "Lexie. Sister. C'mon!" She grabbed his hand and dragged him along.

They had to power through some bushes, and around the corner of the hill they found footprints. Far too many footprints to be just one person.

"Kid, I don't think this is a good idea." Curt stopped in his tracks, not letting her pull him further.

Hannah simply let go of his hand. "Stay then."

"We're so close!" He looked up to the windowless house at the top of the hill. "I'm sure your sister is up there, now come on."

"No."

 _"Hannah,"_ Webby's voice was comforting, but urgent. _"Go to Professor."_

"No." She repeated.

"They're right, Hannah." Came John. "It isn't safe. It's not worth the risk-"

"No!" She shouted, covering her ears. "Lexie! _Lexie!!!"_

Her shouts echoed across the hill, and were met with silence.

Until she saw someone running up the side of the hill. Messy brown hair, thick grey hoodie; it was Lex.

Hannah ran to meet her, but soon heard her sister's voice.

"Run! Run, Hannah, run!" And as she came fully around the hill, Hannah saw who was following Lex.

Owen, shirt still stained blue. And with him were several other familiar faces. Ken and Carol Davidson. Chris Hartly. Jane Houston. Ted. Charlotte. Ethan. 

The scariest face was her own. Eyes glowing blue, a horrifically wide smile across her face.

Hannah turned and ran, Lex hot on her heels. Curt, watching from afar, had already begun running up the hill, looking over his shoulder at the two girls every few seconds.

The chorus of the infected floated around the hillside.

_"One step ahead_

_It's how it's always been._

_No matter what you do,_

_You'll always lose,_

_And we will always win!"_

The three slammed against the door of the Professor's house, the group of infected not far behind. Their cries rang out, and Hannah only hoped they didn't fall on deaf ears.

Turning around, she could see John, almost solid, back to her. His gun was at the ready, but she wasn't sure if it would do any good. As Lex continued to pound at the door, Curt pulled his own gun and shot Ken.

The singing subsided as Ken fell. Owen stepped forward. She saw John pull the trigger, but nothing happened. Curt's hand was shaking.

Owen looked serious, and angry. His voice was quiet, and with Lex still banging on the door and yelling, Hannah could barely hear him.

"Ready to come with me?" He asked. "Or are we going to make it four times?"

Curt's whole body went still. "You aren't him. I'll stop you."

Owen smiled. "You'll do your best."

A gunshot rang out, and Owen fell to the ground, a new wound in his head. Another, and Ethan fell too. The rest of the infected backed away.

Curt turned, and Hannah followed suit. In the doorway was the Professor, shotgun smoking.

"Get inside, now."

Not a soul hesitated.

Of course, the moment the door was shut, that life-saving gun was on them.

Hannah was quickly ruled out, as her nose started bleeding again with the sudden change in temperature, and her blood was not blue.

Lex was next, as she had told the Professor she was going out to look for Hannah, and hadn't been gone long.

Finally, there was Curt. He introduced himself as Frank Mega this time, and said he was a locksmith who had been visiting Hatchetfield for the holidays when the infected started coming around.

"Who goes on vacation on Black Friday?" The Professor questioned.

"Thanksgiving?" Hannah offered, and Curt agreed.

"Meeting family. Lost 'em in all this nonsense, though." In the blink of an eye, Curt looked to be on the edge of tears. She was glad such an actor was on her side.

After a bit more interrogation, the Professor sighed and gave him a pass. "First Ethan, now these two." He mumbled before straightening up.

"Alright. Hannah, Frank, find Becky. She should be in the dining room. Your wounds should be treated as soon as possible."

Hannah nodded, and gestured for Curt to follow her. Lex wanted to come too, but the Professor asked her to stay behind. 

Before her and Curt stepped through the door, the Professor stopped them.

"Hannah." He said, voice stern and face angry. "Do not leave this building again, do you understand me?"

Hannah nodded, and hurried off.

Once out of earshot, Curt scoffed. "Why's he keeping you locked up in here?"

"Dangerous." Hannah frowned. "Only adults go."

"I mean. Makes sense, but yeesh."

They arrived at the dining room and Hannah was quickly smothered, and Curt interrogated. Once questions were answered and injuries pointed out, Becky ordered everyone to back off and stood to clear her plate.

She was met at the doorway to the kitchen. "I can handle it, ma'am. Sounds like you've got a job to do."

Hannah and Curt tensed at the voice, and within seconds Curt's gun was drawn.

In the doorway to the kitchen, taking Becky's plate from her, was Owen.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my bf, reading last chapter: oh yay I'm so excited for curt and Owen!  
> me, surprised no one picked up that Owen was infected: oh yeah man
> 
> anyway, pretty sure this is the longest chapter so far, hot damn. sorry that its late, I've had a busy week


	16. Time

Not for the first time that day, Curt had a gun aimed at Owen. While this time his hands were less shaky, he still hesitated on pulling the trigger, and everyone leapt on that hesitation.

The room was quickly filled with shouting and overlapping explanations, and Hannah covered her ears and hid behind Curt, feeling blood drip into her mouth from her nose.

Though it was hard to tell, it looked like the only people not yelling were Curt and Owen. Looking up, Curt's face was cold and serious, but his eyes showed fear and sadness. Owen had a similar, casually calm expression, but his eyes reflected Curt's fear, as well as his own worry and confusion.

Owen slowly raised his hands in a surrender pose, and everyone quieted down with a few last confused shouts and questions. 

"Curt," Owen's voice was quiet and level. "Put the gun down. Have you been drinking again?"

"God, I wish." Curt's voice shook slightly, and he talked at a normal volume. "I'm way too sober for this."

Owen laughed to himself. It was soft, tired. Not like the harsh fake and sinister laughter from earlier. "C'mon, chap, I know you're not a cabbage. Why've you got me at gunpoint this time?"

"Why?" Curt's laugh was much harsher, sadder, angrier. "Well maybe because I just saw you outside, singing your heart out. Oh, and trying to kill me and the kid, that's an important detail."

The room was quiet, and Owen frowned. He put his hands down. "I would never try and kill you. You know that. Whatever you saw, it wasn't me."

" _ Bullshit."  _ He spat, and then looked at Hannah over his shoulder. "Sorry, Hannah." He looked back to Owen, angrier than before. "You  _ would _ try to kill me. You  _ have. _ "

"Then shoot me."

"What?"

Owen shrugged. "Then shoot me, Curt. You know how to take out a threat. If you really think I am one, then it's your job to take me out."

The air in the room was tense. It broke for a moment, as Lex and the Professor came in, but they quickly froze. Lex looked over to Hannah, seemingly relieved she was fine, and then looked just behind her, tensing again. Hannah peeked over her own shoulder: only the wall.

She didn't have time to dwell on it longer. Curt had yet to pull the trigger, and had just let out a frustrated yell.

Owen took a step forward, arm outstretched. "Hey, it's alright." He smiled, and his voice was soft. "I told you, Curt, I'm real."

Curt took a step back, falling into Hannah but catching himself. Hannah, however, fell to the floor, but avoided hurting herself further. She moved away, and took a look at Owen as the two talked.

"Owen, I've seen you shot too many times." Curt sighed. "And now there's aliens, or something. Maybe  _ I  _ can't shoot you, but anyone else here can." He flipped his gun and offered it to anyone, but no one took it.

"I saw the aliens too! It's how I found this place. Some of the ones I saw were people in this room, Curt. But they're real, and so am I."

After a moment of quiet, the Professor spoke from the back of the room. "You two know eachother, yes?" Both nodded, and he turned to Curt. "The Infected seem to only have access to recent memories, especially if the body they take over died before apotheosis. You could ask him something from long ago, to test. It would help us, too."

Curt looked back to Owen, and thought for a moment. "How did we first meet?"

Owen smirked. "Our  _ official _ first meeting, or our real first meeting?"

"Our  _ first _ meeting."

He nodded, smiling fondly. "This'll blow our cover, but fuck it. Ukraine, six years ago. MI6 and the A.S.S. sent us both to recover the same files from the same location, without telling the other. We ran into eachother, you punched me in the throat, and then felt bad once you realized I was more of an ally than an enemy, which allowed me to nab the files from you and get home victorious." The cocky smirk returned as he looked Curt in the eyes. "We didn't see eachother again until a year later, where we were properly introduced as partners."

The room looked to Curt. After a long moment of staring at the floor, he put his gun in his pocket, and everyone gave a collective sigh of relief. 

"Now that  _ that _ is settled." The Professor walked over to the two newcomers. "From what I can tell, you both lied about your identities. And I'd like to know the truth now, or else you won't be welcome in my home any longer. So!" He looked between the two of them. "Who would like to go first?"

Both were quiet for a moment, and then Owen offered his hand. "Agent Owen Carvour, spy for MI6. This is my partner, Special Agent Curt Mega, spy for the American Secret Service."

"I can introduce myself." Curt muttered.

"Don't bother." The Professor sighed. "I would like to say I can understand why you would hide your identities and professions, but given our situation, I don't see the logic in it."

"Whatever do you mean?" Owen asked, raising an eyebrow.

The Professor stared at him. "When you first came here you said you were on vacation, visiting a friend, that you had been here for over a month, now."

Owen bit the inside of his cheek. "That… might've been a lie."

The Professor sighed. "How long have you actually been here?"

"About a day." He admitted, smoothing down his hair. "I overheard someone say it was December, figured I was somewhere in America, and made an excuse that would tie into Thanksgiving."

Curt pouted. "Yeah, same here."

The Professor paused. "Tell me about the world you remember."

They think for a bit before Owen starts listing facts, counting them off on his fingers. "Harold Macmillan just became Prime Minister today, Britain and France got the hell away from the Suez Canal because the U.N. told them too, Olympics in Australia back in November, got some good metals there, good Mrs. Christie came out with a new book..." He looked to Curt. "How about on your side of the Atlantic?"

Curt kept his gaze away from Owen. "...None of that sounds right. But none of this makes sense, so. Uh, Iron Man, he's a thing, getting me back into comics now. Alcatraz closed, there was a break but they won't admit it. Cool spy movie, James Bond, inaccurate though. I have a zip code now? Which is stupid, mail is annoying enough. And  _ so much  _ civil rights stuff. Dr. King, Malcolm X, everybody's fighting, you know?"

Owen frowned. "Clearly, I'm behind on what's going on in America."

The Professor tapped his chin. "What's the date?"

At the same time, Curt said, "November 20th, 1963," and Owen said, "January 10th, 1957." They looked at eachother in disbelief, and the color drained from Curt's face.

"1957? It's… you think it's 1957?"

Owen paced, bewildered. "It  _ is  _ 1957, Curt, we were just together! What are you going on about it being 1963?"

"I hate to break it to you," interrupted the Professor, "but you're both wrong. Today is December 26th, 2018."

Curt scoffed. "That's not a real year."

"Mind telling me where in the world you last remember being?"

He frowned. "Hannah said this is Hatchetfield. I dunno where that is, but I was in Dallas."

"We were both in London." Owen added quietly.

"You are in Hatchetfield, which is an island off the coast of Lake Erie, Michigan." The Professor explained.

There was a lot of confusion and yelling and denial for the next several minutes as the Professor explained the portals and how the two spies theoretically got there, as well as the situation of Black Friday and Wiggly and the current state of the world.

Once emotions were calming down, Curt sat on a nearby chair someone had abandoned during all the chaos, staring dully at the floor. "We're sixty years in the future, in a place I've never even heard of, and he's from  _ 1957. _ "

Owen carefully stepped over to Curt and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to be empathetic and comforting, but having the opposite effect and Curt immediately jumped up and away from Owen. 

"Stop that!" He shouted, and Hannah covered her ears. "Just, stay away from me, okay? You-You have to go back to your own time, a-and I have to go to mine, and we have to not see each other, okay?"

A moment ago, Owen had looked dazed, confused, but no worse for the wear. But as soon as those words left Curt's mouth, Hannah saw his face morph into pure heartbreak. He tried to laugh and smile his way back into normalcy. "Curt…" he hesitated, like he was going to add something else, but his eyes flicked to the group in the room, and he decided otherwise. "What are you talking about? Just because we're from different times doesn't mean-"

"You still don't see, do you Owen?!" Curt cut him off, still yelling, but he seemed to surprise himself with his own volume and quieted down. The look in his eyes told Hannah there was so much he couldn't say. Defeated, he looked to the ground. "Just because you aren't an alien doesn't mean we have to be friends, or partners. I'll work with you if I have too, but other than that, stay away from me."

Owen had no response. He tried to not look shattered, but failed. 

Curt offered his good hand to Hannah and pulled her up to a stand. "I believe we were supposed to go with a doctor or something?"

"Nurse, technically." Becky commented, guiding them over to her.

Curt shrugged. "That's just as good. C'mon, kid, let's make sure that broken nose doesn't get any worse. You're bleeding again."

Hannah huffed and reached to wipe, but Becky stopped her, not wanting Hannah to knock her nose out of place again.

The three left the room, with Lex not far behind. Normally, she would walk directly behind Hannah, or right next to her, but she was suddenly keeping her distance, and Hannah was worried that her sister was so mad at her for leaving that she didn't want to be near her.

Once Becky officially set Hannah's nose (it was still slightly out of place) and put one of those weird little bandaids on it, and made sure all the blood was gone via putting little cotton balls up her nose, her worries were subsided, and Lex kneeled down and hugged her tight, being careful not to bump her face.

"I told you not to go out again." Her voice was shaky. "Why did you go out again? It was your birthday, why did you  _ leave? _ "

Hannah held her just as tight, sobbing as she felt nearly two days worth of near-death experiences hit her all at once. "Looking for you, Lexie. Scared you were gone."

Lex pulled back, as much as Hannah didn't want her too, and gripped her shoulders. The older girl was just as tear-stained as Hannah was. "That is  _ not _ an excuse. Banana, I promise, I will always come back. And…" She frowned, eyebrows tightly furrowed. "And if I ever don't come back. Or if I come back as a zombie. Then you have to keep going, you understand me? If somehow I leave, you do  _ not  _ throw everything away to be with me. You keep going, for Ethan, and for Webby, and for everyone else here, and most importantly for yourself."

Hannah sniffed, and nodded. She didn't believe herself, but it was the right answer.

Lex pulled her pack into the hug. "I'll do every damn thing I can to not leave. I'll stay with you as long as you want me too, as long as I possibly can. We're gonna get outta this together, okay?"

Hannah nodded, still unsure if she believed herself, and the two sat, hugging, for a long time.

Once the two were finally calmer, Hannah looked to see if Curt was any better, and to her surprise, she saw three people.

One was Curt, with a new splint on his wrist. Beside him was Becky, explaining that he cannot, under any circumstances, use that hand for at least two weeks, and Curt was begrudgingly agreeing.

The third, however, was John, only slightly see-through, standing near Hannah, watching the exchange with slight curiosity.

He spoke quietly to Hannah without looking over. "You should ask about hypothermia. You were out in the snow for a long time."

Lex pulled away from where she was still partly hugging Hannah and quickly looked around the room, freezing when her eyes landed just beside Hannah, and up. She didn't say anything, just shifted between the spot, Becky and Curt, and Hannah.

Hannah thought this was  _ very _ odd, but figured she should take John's advice anyway, and cleared her throat a few times, and John did the same.

"Miss Becky?" The nurse looked over, as did Curt. "I was… in the snow. Long time, a lot. Very cold. Am I.. okay?"

Becky kneeled beside her, putting the back of her hand on Hannah's forehead. "Are you worried about hypothermia? I did think you were pretty cold, even after having been inside for a while during… all that."

After a bit, Becky had Curt get off the cot and Hannah get in, making sure none of her clothes were wet. Hannah kicked off her shoes and took off the oversized jacket, as it was a bit damp. Her socks were also wet, and she was still having trouble feeling her toes. The bottoms of her overalls were also a bit damp, but she didn't want to take them off while everyone was around. Becky went to go find blankets and towels, and told Curt he could leave if desired.

He hesitated, looking back at Hannah, tucked firmly in the cot, and Lex, still staring at the same spot, though she had moved to sit on the cot beside Hannah. 

"Uh." He paused, cradling his injured hand. "Thanks. For bringing me here. I'm sorry if I scared you earlier."

"'s okay. Thanks for helping." She gave him a small smile, which he returned.

"I'll, uh. Be around. Yell if you need anything, kid." With those parting words, he left, clearly unsure where to go.

The two sisters were alone in the medical center, quietly staring off into space. Out of the corner of her eye, Hannah saw that John had faded.

"Who are you?" Lex said aloud, to no one in particular.

Hannah felt her eyes instinctually well up with tears. "L-Lexie…?"

Lex looked over, her scared expression changing to something much softer. "No, no, no you, Banana. I…" She bit her li, hesitant. "It sounds weird, but everything about our lives is weird right now. I think there's a ghost following you."

"What?" Hannah asked, short of breath.

"Ghost?" She heard John scoff.

_ "Lexie… see John?"  _ Webby asked.

"What… What does the ghost look like?" Hannah asked Lex, afraid that Lex's description would match John.

And match John it did. Lex turned back to the spot she had been staring at, and listed features. "White guy, some kind of military uniform. Fluffy, dirty-blonde hair. Brown eyes. Weird hat." Lex tensed, and her voice fell to a whisper. "He's looking right at me…"

"Can you hear me?" John asked, and Lex didn't respond, other than squintly slightly.

He repeated. "Lex, can you hear me?"

She frowned. "That was my name. We… We've met before. On Black Friday. And when Ethan came back. Who the hell are you?"

"General John McNamara." He answered.

After a moment, Hannah repeated. "General John McNamara."

Lex looked over. "How do you know that?"

She looked away. "....Told me."

"You see him too?"

"Sometimes. Always hear him. Like Webby."

Lex paused, thinking. "Why did you never tell me?"

Hannah tried to hide further under the covers. "Afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Second voice."

It took a moment, but a look of understanding spread across Lex's face. "...Have you heard him as long as you've heard Webby?"

Hannah shook her head. "Black Friday. Wear a watch."

"I saw him on Black Friday. He gave me a gun, I don't really get how… he said we both have powers."

"You do." John said casually. "For some reason, you both are very connected to the Black and White. You can hear it, Lex can reach into it. But I believe her being able to see me is my own fault."

"But why does he follow you?" Lex asked, unaware all that was said.

"Can't leave. Hurts him…" Hannah frowned. "Don't want him to get hurt again. Saved me."

"Saved you? When?"

Hannah began recounting her adventure outside, but was interrupted just as she was breaking into a house by Becky coming back, Ethan in tow, with a ton of blankets.

"It might be hot, but it's better than you being cold. Just ask for help if you're hungry or need to go to the bathroom or anything" The Nurse explained.

Remembering, Hannah told Lex to check the jacket she had been wearing for the radio. Sure enough, it was just where she had left it.

"President. Talking on the radio. Weekly, he said. They're looking for people. Saving people. Maybe they can help us." She explained, and over the blankets saw looks of hope blossom on everyone's faces.

Becky took the radio. "I'll tell everyone, most of them are still in the dining room. Thank you, Hannah, great job! But please don't go out again."

Once she was gone, Ethan sat on the cot, back to back with Lex. "Did ya tell her about the surprise?"

Lex sighed, but it turned into a laugh. "No. With all this hell I forgot."

Ethan smirked and looked at Hannah. "Want me to tell you your birthday present?"

"We couldn't wrap it." Lex added. "And you'll probably have to share."

Hannah nodded, a bit excited.

Ethan's smirk grew into a giddy smile. "We found a TV. All the works. DVD player, Switch, movies and games…"

"That's why it took so long to come back." Lex admitted. "It was hard getting all that shit back. We actually took two trips, one for the TV and one for all the other stuff." Her smile fell. "It wasn't until after then we noticed you were gone. I'm sorry, Hannah, we… We've gotta look out for you better."

"No." Hannah croaked, feeling tears again. "I… I gotta listen. I'm sorry, Lexie, Ethan…"

It was crushing, getting such tight hugs on top of all the blankets, but it felt like home.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not as happy with this chapter as I wish I was but oh well. also uh next chapter will also have a lot of curt & Owen and then after that we get back in the swing of things, I just have a little sub-plot with them don't worry. (and in case it wasn't clear, curt basically broke up with Owen. rip)


	17. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long note at the end, gang. anyway this chapter and the next were gonna be one but its mostly filler and after this its kinda. plot plot plot until the end so fuck it, I split it. I did a lot of research about adhd and autism but if you have any advice please.... tell me.... also enjoy!!!

The next week was spent healing up and making plans. Plans that Hannah wasn't really present for, and only heard of second-hand.

The first two days back, she was barely allowed to get up from under several layers of blankets, as her body progressively re-adjusted to being warm. It left Hannah _very_ bored, and Lex and Ethan couldn't be by her side every second of the day, which left her to mostly talk to John and Webby.

Neither of them understood exactly how Lex was able to see John, but they figured it was a mix of Lex's powers and John's recent breaking of the barrier. Through some trial and error, they figured that the more clearly Hannah could _see_ John, the more clearly Lex could _hear_ him. 

Speaking of being able to see John, it seemed to only be in situations where one or both of them were scared or worried. John theorized it may be linked to strong emotions, since that's what let him break out in the first place, and the thought made Hannah sad. She only ever saw him when he was scared, or worried, or angry, or upset. She wanted to see him happy, relieved, smiling. Was joy not strong enough of an emotion?

Finally, there was Webby. When Hannah could see John, Webby sounded fainter. When he was solid, which hadn't happened since she had been outside, she couldn't hear Webby at all. It was disconcerting, an interruption of her routine, and simply very scary to her. She had gone 13 years of hearing Webby. She wasn't used to being without her.

Despite the lingering questions and dimensional talk, Hannah was still very bored those first couple of days. She convinced Lex to bring down the chessboard and played a game with her (which Lex let her win). Once Lex had left, Hannah played with John.

It was a quiet game. Hannah focused more on trying to outsmart the General than really pay attention to his presence.

When she managed to get his King in check, she grinned and looked up, not expecting to actually see him sitting across from her, legs criss-cross-applesauce, studying the board intently.

He wasn't very solid, much more of a ghost, but he was there.

Hannah was pretty happy at the moment, her boredom momentarily forgotten in what would likely be a temporary lead in the game. So she watched him for a moment and quietly asked, "Are you mad?"

He chuckled, and she watched his shoulders rise and fall. "At being in check? No."

"Are you scared?"

"Why would I be scared? Chess is but a game, not a real war."

John instructed her to move his king diagonally away from her rook. As she did, she asked, "Are you happy?"

He was quiet for a moment, and Hannah saw him stare at the wall as he thought. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

Hannah smiled as she rocked slightly, trying not to disturb the board. "Can see you."

John looked surprised, and faded almost completely before slowly returning, stronger than before, though not by much. "Strong emotion."

Hannah nodded. "Strong emotion." She moved her knight to take one of his pawns near his king, and he pointed to it. 

"King takes Knight."

She huffed and removed her piece. Looking up, she saw him smiling softly, eyes to the board. Some of his hair had fallen in his face, and his weird little hat was askew.

She had always seen him as this very put-together, very strong, rough-edged military man. He usually spoke rather monotonously, except for when he got loud. But ever since McNamalien (as she had taken to calling his double) attacked her, he seemed more gentle, more protective. He had never sounded so scared until then. She wasn't sure what had changed. It was possible that he had always been like this, but now she could actually see him, and so she could finally notice. He was easier to read now that she could see him, however ghostly he may appear.

Hannah smiled to herself and decided not to linger on it. He was a nice, welcoming, protective presence. John was beginning to feel more and more like home to her.

They talked quietly as the game continued, and after a few close calls, Hannah was finally in checkmate.

"You did much better then." She saw John smile as she reset the pieces. "I'm glad to see you're learning so quickly."

Before Hannah could respond, the door opened, and John was standing before she could even register who had entered.

It was Curt, which wasn't too surprising. He had visited a few times over the last couple days, sometimes looking for Becky, sometimes wanting to check up on her.

His wrist had been badly sprained, nearly broken, by the other Owen, but he seemed to be taking it in stride. Becky had told him to not use it for at least two weeks, but based on how often he had been coming in to get the split adjusted, Hannah figured he wasn't listening to her advice at all.

This time looked no different, as once John sat back down, Hannah could see that Curt was cradling his hurt hand with the other, and looking around the room for anyone other than Hannah before striding up to her.

"Hey, kid. Warming up?" He stood at the foot of the cot, leaning on it slightly, but not sitting down. Hannah watched John fade slightly as he sat back on the bed, the sheets never acknowledging his presence. She nodded at Curt, shifting her gaze to his hand.

"Keep hurting yourself?"

He shrugged. "I'm not used to this place, yet. Keep runnin' into things. And it keeps getting all fu-" He cut himself off, looking away from Hannah. "The wrappy things. They keep getting all undone when I'm asleep."

Curt and Owen very obviously used to be friends, Hannah knew that much. But they were from two different times, and she also knew Curt had killed Owen — apparently more than once. But somehow, she felt she wasn't getting the whole story.

Curt refused to sleep in the same room as Owen. From what she had overheard, the British man had been awfully quiet around Curt ever since his outburst, and didn't put up much of a fight about sleeping arrangements.

So now things were mixed up again. The kids still had their room, and Tom and Becky had theirs. With Charlotte and Ted gone, Emma and Paul took one of the rooms for themselves, leaving one empty until Ethan claimed it. Bill and Ed (and Peanuts) were still roommates, but Oliver quickly convinced Ethan to let him stay in his room so he could finally get away from the rowdy squirrel. Once the spies were added into the mix, Owen went with Bill and Ed, and Curt with the Greens.

"Are you playing chess against yourself?" He interrupted her thoughts, eyeing the pieces. She offered one to him and he shook his head. 

"No thanks. Chess is for nerds." He looked idly at some cabinets. "'Sides, I never learned to play. Owe could never teach me." Getting up from where he was leaning, Curt walked over to the cabinets. "Always got distracted."

Hannah watched him look through the cabinets and take out various boxes before putting them back. "Owe?"

"Huh?" Hannah began to repeat herself when Curt cut her off. "Owe? Oh. Uh, that's… an old nickname, for Owen. Kinda hard to make a nickname for someone when their name is already short, yanno?"

She nodded, and continued to watch him. "What… are you looking for?"

Curt just gave a long hum in response, shutting a cabinet and opening a drawer. "Hey, what's this?"

He wasn't really talking to her, she could tell, but she tried to see what he was holding. It was a brown bottle, with a blue label, and some kind of liquid in it. Curt was shaking it around.

As she watched, something clicked in Hannah's brain. "Bored?"

"Absolutely." His response was immediate, and he put the bottle back in the drawer upright, making it so the drawer couldn't close. "Getting hurt is the worst. It hurts, and then everyone tells you that you can't _do_ anything, that you have to rest up…"

He continued to ramble, jumping topics a few times and pacing around the room, and Hannah noticed him fiddling with the wrapping of his wrist, causing it to become even more undone. She pointed it out to him.

"What? Oh." His face dropped as he sighed. "This always happens. It just doesn't feel right, you know? It squeezes too hard, and the stupid bandage feels weird."

"Texture?" She reached to feel it, and when he let her, she recoiled.

Curt nodded. "You get it. You'd think they would've made better bandages in 60 years or whatever." He sighed, and tried to wrap it back up himself. "Becky said it might be a brain… thing? Attention defective hyper-something. It was a weird name."

Hannah watched his hands, not that he was trying to look her in the eyes anyway. "ADHD?"

"I dunno. Sounds boring, so it's probably right."

Just then, Becky entered, saw Curt, and sighed. "Undo it again?"

He shrugged, and she beckoned him to follow her towards the cabinets he had been looking in previously. She took the weird bottle and put it back how it was supposed to be.

"Hannah, did you go through this?" She asked over her shoulder as she looked through the now-disorganized cabinet for the proper wrappings.

Hannah shook her head hard enough for her braids to whip into her face, and Curt cleared his throat awkwardly.

"That was me. I… don't know why."

Becky found what she was looking for and set about fixing his wrist yet again. "I get that you've got a lot of energy, and need something to do, but please don't mess with medical stuff. Or your wrist, for that matter."

Curt was facing away from Hannah, so she only saw his head nodding, but figured he had probably been told off like this several times by now.

"Other band-aids?" She decided to ask, sparking both adults to look over to her.

"What do you mean?" Becky came to her side, looking her over and testing her temperature. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head again, less violently this time, and pointed to Curt. Becky turned to see that Curt, while looking in another random drawer, was already picking at the new wrappings.

"Curt." She called.

"Hm?" He didn't look over.

"Does the bandage bother you?"

That got his attention, and he gave an exaggerated nod. "I don't know how anyone puts up with this stuff! It just feels-" And then he made a long groaning noise that made Hannah and Becky laugh.

"We have a couple other types we can try, but I want you to promise not to undo it again, okay?"

Curt put his hand over his heart. "I promise, if there is a less horrible-feeling bandage tape thing, I won't screw it up."

"That's the spirit!" Becky looked through the cabinets and took out a couple boxes, talking as she did so. "I was telling you about ADHD, right? Sensory issues are a symptom of that. So, not liking certain textures, or tastes, or smells. Just tell people about what's bothering you, I'm sure no one will mind."

"Yeah. So, uh, what am I supposed to do to not go insane but also not hurt myself more? Is that an ADHD thing, too?"

As the two talked, Hannah listened. She was confused how Curt managed to sound bored and interested at the same time, but he seemed to be doing his best to pay attention and listen to Becky. 

Once they found a type of bandage that didn't bother Curt, she wrapped his wrist back up and he waved goodbye to Hannah. Becky then checked on her again and left as well, leaving her and John alone once more.

They decided to take a little break from chess, and John faded as he walked around the room restlessly.

Feeling alone, Hannah's hands found her neck. It was tender, and while it had been a while since she looked in the mirror, everyone had told her that it was still dark purple. McNamalien had quite the death grip.

But her John, the _real_ John, had saved her. It was hard to believe that just over a week ago she had still hated John, never wanted to hear his voice, believed that he was unhelpful and scary. Now she talked to him at least as much as she talked to Webby, if not more.

Still, sometimes, when John appeared or spoke suddenly (which was often), she would jump, afraid that it was McNamalien, or another different John. One that would hurt her. 

She only hoped he hadn't noticed.

John was very observant. She figured he had to be, as a General. Generals were leaders, and leaders had to have a good idea of what was going on, and had to pay a lot of attention to everything, all the time. 

Hannah paid a lot of attention to her surroundings, usually. It was less paying attention and more noticing little things. Lex and some doctor had told her it was a trait of autism.

Hannah was what the doctor and her mother had called "high-functioning," which Lex didn't like. She was upset Hannah's struggles were being overlooked just because she could talk well when she wanted, and usually didn't have that much trouble in school. Lex never felt like Hannah was getting the help she needed — it was part of why she wanted to get them to California.

Deciding to set the chessboard up again, Hannah spared some glances around the room, trying to see if John was visible again.

He was, and he was doing something she didn't recall ever seeing him do before. He was standing near the cabinet that Curt had messed up, back to her, and flapped his hands around. John was rather broad-shouldered, so she mostly just got quick glimpses of his fingers and such, but she had done the same often enough before to recognize it.

She flapped her own hands around for a bit before pulling on her braids. "What are you looking for?"

John froze and looked over his shoulder before turning back to the cabinet. "Curt made this area very disorganized, and Becky didn't fix it all." She heard him let out a frustrated sigh. "I'd like to fix it, but unfortunately, I can't interact with anything."

The disorganization hadn't bothered her that much, in all honesty. Such things only bothered her if it was _her_ stuff, or something she saw often. But John sounded rather frustrated, at least with not being able to do anything, and it made her sad.

Hannah slipped her legs out from under the tightly-tucked blankets and stood, the cold tile briefly bringing her back to the snowy hellscape she trudged through just two days prior.

John must have heard her, as he turned around. He had stopped flapping and instead moved to fiddling with his vest. Still, he looked to her with a stern stare. "Get back in bed."

She stepped forward. "Gonna fix it."

"You aren't supposed to be up."

"I'll be okay." She jumped up onto the counter and kneeled on it, opening the cabinet one door at a time to avoid knocking herself off. John stood behind her, looking more solid and ready to leap into action and catch her, despite knowing it would do nothing.

Looking at the shelves, it was definitely messed up, but Hannah couldn't remember what went where, as she had been paying more attention to what Curt was taking out of the cabinet rather than where he had gotten it from or where it was put back.

John, noticing her hesitation, pointed to a white and green box of surgical masks. "That went on the bottom shelf with the others like it." He pointed to a smaller box of bright blue bandage tape, the type that had been used for Tim's sprained ankle. "And that is actually in the right spot, but the other bandage boxes got scattered around."

Hannah moved everything around how John directed her too, and remembered more about autism that Lex had told her; good memory, and disliking when things were out of order. Hannah experienced both of those, and as she closed the cabinets and climbed down from the counter, she couldn't help but wonder if John wasn't the same as her.

"Thank you." He did sound genuinely relieved. "Now, please, get back in bed. I don't want you getting cold."

She nodded and did as she was told, but once she was back under the covers, she searched for him. He was returning to his spot cross-legged on the bed, and they briefly locked eyes before both parties abruptly looked away, Hannah dropping to his chin and John to the pillows just behind her head.

That was something that had happened several times. And he had mentioned, back in the house with the radio, that a foster father who hurt him didn't like how he avoided eye contact, and other behaviors.

She set up the chess board, and just as John opened his mouth to say something, Hannah interrupted with the question that had been rattling in her head. "You're like me?"

John looked closer to her eyes. "I am?"

"Are you?"

"Maybe. How do you mean?"

She pulled on her braids. "Autistic."

"Oh, that? Yes."

He admitted it very casually, making Hannah feel silly for thinking it was a big deal. He didn't seem to notice, but smiled at her regardless.

"Growing up I was a lot like you. I still am, but I think being in the military forced me to better work with some of my symptoms, or else hide them. It's not something to be ashamed of, but it certainly gets in the way of my job at times. You have to work _with_ it, not against it. Some people don't understand that," He sighed, staring at the black and white tiles of the board. "My father was very helpful and supportive when he was around. Helped me adjust to working with PEIP. I owe... a lot to him." 

"Lexie and Ethan help me."

"Exactly. It's good to have someone to fall back on."

The game began, and Hannah mirrored John's pawns, drumming her fingers on the side of the board, thinking, but not about chess. "Lexie says there's stuff we like to talk about. I like spiders. Do you like things?"

John nodded, becoming more and more solid. "Special interests. Baseball has been one of mine since childhood."

"Baseball?" She scooted forward, trying not to jostle the board and pieces, but more interested in what John had to share.

He grinned at her, and spent the next hour talking about everything baseball: origins, teams, players, why baseball cards exist, records, so on and so forth, the barely-started chess game long forgotten. 

Hannah had never been interested in sports, but she could have listened forever, feeling giddy just listening to his passion. And when he eventually wound down and asked her about spiders, she was happier than she had been in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lets talk about nightmare time, can we talk about nightmare time? please, readers, i've been dying to talk about nightmare time with you all day, okay.
> 
> so obviously a few things have been revealed that cancel out things ive written and hey, thats fanfic for ya. im not changing hidgens house in this (though i may include the black and white floor somewhere....) and ive updated the tags with ted, alice, and bill's last names :> as for hidgens pretty clearly being a villain in most hatchetfield universes we've seen.... dont worry. i have plans for him. i know Exactly what im doing with the professor in this story.
> 
> also, nightmare time has.... predicted? some things i was gonna do in this, when they happen i'll say in the authors notes. its also given me New ideas hee hee hee hoo hoo hoo but thats for later
> 
> And the other eldritch beings? aha….. don’t worry about it :>
> 
> im super hyped for the rest of nightmare time, and by the time yall are seeing this chapter, me and my boyfriend have been to the wayward guide premiere, so who knows! that may influence the story too...
> 
> also can i say ;v; i love yalls comments. i try to respond to as many as i can just to say "hey i see you and i appreciate you" but in case i havent, here i am saying it in the authors notes. love you :>
> 
> ALSO THANKS FOR 69 KUDOS! its 71 now but I have a screenshot of when it was 69 and that's all that matters
> 
> And again, I spent so much time researching autism and adhd for this i. hope it comes across well. Any advice on those topics is welcome! also thank you to my boyfriend for giving me the idea for one of john's special interests being baseball, and also for beta reading part of this chapter!


	18. Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE!!!!!! I've been struggling with this chapter for like two months and that was largely bc of school but school is OVER NOW so its FINALLY DONE and I can go back to my SCHEDULE

On December 29th, Hannah was officially allowed to leave the medical center. With three days until the new year, the house felt tense. There had been progress bonding over the month since coming together, progress that had unfortunately been based in loss, but with their newest members very much at odds, it invited speculation to many relationships around the house.

Late on the night of the 26th, once Hannah was safely tucked in the medical center and the room arrangements once again moved around to accommodate the spies, Tom and Becky sat in their room in a peaceful silence.

Or at least, it would seem peaceful to an outsider. Tom could tell Becky was lost in her own head, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the same. 

Lately, Tom had been asked more and more frequently to go into situations that he would need to use a gun for, and it was starting to feel like he was back in Afghanistan. He hadn't had to shoot too many times, and he was glad. The second he was handed a gun his hands started to shake, he doubted he could hit a mark.

He couldn't even pull himself together to shoot an insane cult leader, who also happened to be Linda Monroe. He let her come screaming down to him and twist his hand, and the gun, out of her face. He let her get the doll. 

Part of Tom really felt like it was all his fault. Maybe if he had pulled the damn trigger and stopped her from ever touching the doll, things would be fine. Or at least better than they currently were. They would be safe instead of living in fear. Tim would be getting ready to celebrate New Year's instead of sporting a sprained ankle.

Tom could only thank God and Becky that Linda died. In his spiral, he still managed to find her and wake her up. It was Becky who did the job. Becky, the nurse, had to take another life. It could be easily argued that Linda deserved it, but he knew she feared the blood on her hands. He had just given her even more.

He jumped at the feeling of a hand on his back, and turned to see a blurry Becky, her hair in a loose, low ponytail for the night. He blinked and she became more clear, and his face felt wet. He quickly wiped the tears away. "Sorry."

"It's okay, Tom." She gently set her hand on his back, waiting a moment before softly rubbing it around. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Something Tom really appreciated was that Becky always asked. Jane would pry everything out of him, whether he was ready to talk about it or not. He understood she wanted to help, but it made him feel like her patient and not her husband. Becky gave him the freedom to say no, and it was refreshing.

In this case, he almost wished he didn't have the freedom, though. He wanted to talk about it, but felt oddly embarrassed. He didn't want their whole relationship to be about his trauma. He wished he could be the man she used to know.

"Just… thinkin' about, uh. Lately, you know? All the outings, and the threats." He looked down to his shaking hands. "And Linda, on Black Friday…"

He felt Becky's hand go stiff for a moment as he mentioned Linda, before she continued her calming movements. "If they've been bothering you, I'm sure Henry will give you a break. The outings, that is."

"I don't mind the outings."

"I know." He could feel her smiling softly. "You can ask about the guns, too. Either way, they'll cut you some slack. You deserve it."

"Someone'll have to take my place."

"I can do it."

Tom shook his head. "You shouldn't have to."

"I can handle a gun, Tom, you know that." She tried to reassure him.

"You shouldn't have too, Beck." He trembled. "Taking lives is…"

"Tom." She pulls gently on his shoulder so he'll face her. "I've taken two lives. Both of them deserved it. It's horrible, I know it is. You know it better than I do, I'm sure. This… is a terrible situation. But you don't have to force yourself to confront your PTSD head-on because of it."

"It's either that or kids have to take up weapons, and I can't let that happen."

Becky frowns, and presses her forehead to his. "There are other options, Tom. Especially with Curt and Owen now! They're literally spies, they can take the load off."

"One of 'em's got a broken wrist."

"Sprained. He'll be fine." Becky cupped his face. "The point is, Tom, you're putting the entire world on your shoulders. This isn't your fault, and you don't need to face everything alone." She looked into his eyes, determination shining in her stormy blue irises. "You don't need to subject yourself to your trauma in order to help out. There are so many other options, and it's not good for you. You're just wearing yourself out."

Tom's own dark, depressingly blue eyes studied her face and hair. God, she was pretty. He loved Jane, he still loved Jane, but he had missed Becky. He missed the woman who knew him when he was his best self. It was so easy to fall back in love with her, it almost scared him.

She wiped his cheeks with her thumbs and he realized he had been crying again. "'m sorry."

"You're okay, Tom."

"Because of you." He paused, kissing her nose. "Thank you."

She smiled, sweet and familiar, and the weight felt a little lighter.

"Are you alright?" He asked as they laid back down.

Becky shrugged. "It's nothing, we don't have to talk about it right now."

"I'd love to hear it, if you want to tell me."

She was quiet for a moment, and he whispered. "Is it him?"

She shook her head. "No… I think about Stanley a lot, but no. It's, um. Well, it's about Tim."

Tom tensed. "What about Tim?"

"Don't worry," she put a hand on his chest. "Nothing bad. I just… worry about him with me. If he resents me, or if he just sees his mom, or…"

Tom ran his hand through her ponytail. "Becky, he loves you. I know he misses Jane, I do too. But he loves you, we both do."

She was quiet, and curled in closer to Tom. "I'm not jealous of her." She whispered. "But sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if she were here. Obviously we wouldn't be together, and that's okay, but… would I still be with Stanley? Would I be even worse off? Would we ever meet again?"

Tom held her tight, worry in his brow. "I hope so. Beck, if I had known about him sooner, I would've killed him for ya. Jane or no, I wouldn't let you live like that."

They both lay quiet for a moment, and Tom felt something dripping onto his chest. He held her closer as she silently cried, playing with her hair and rubbing her back.

"I love you." She eventually muttered. "As a friend, as a partner, as a  _ person _ . I love you."

As the two calmed down and fell asleep, they stayed intertwined, safe in each other's arms.

The morning of the 27th, Ethan was up early, bothering his cousin and roommate, Oliver, to get ready faster so they could find out where their new roommate, Curt, had gone off too.

"You are way too obsessed with that guy." Oliver commented as he fixed his tie.

Ethan frowned, leaning against the wall. "He's a  _ spy.  _ From the  _ 50s _ . He's like, about as cool as you can get."

"That's just because you have a 50s aesthetic." Oliver grumbled, searching for his glasses, which were on his head. "Besides, he said he was from 1963. Owen is the one from the 50s."

"Yeah," Ethan shrugged. "But Owen's British, that's like, way different. Besides, he gives me weird vibes."

"Really? He seemed fine to me." Oliver finally huffed and rubbed his eyes. "Have you seen my glasses?"

"On your head, jabroni." Ethan took them off of his cousin's head and handed them to him with a smirk. "And, uh, I dunno. I guess he just seems like… he's clearly got a lot of secrets."

"I'm sure Curt does too. They're spies, they probably know more about the government than we ever will."

"Look, I don't gotta explain to you why I think the guy's vibes are off, okay?" Ethan snapped, only half-joking. "He just makes me nervous."

"Well, I can agree with you there. Both of them put me on edge." Oliver frowned, wringing his hands.

Ethan gave him a strong pat on his back. A solid four inches taller and a good bit stronger, it sent the bespectacled teen a couple steps forward. "You're nervous about everything, Ollie. But you're right in this case." Another pat, and Ethan headed for the door. "Let's go find Curt!"

"I really think we should just leave him alone. You pestered him enough last night." Despite his words, he still followed Ethan.

"Look, we  _ need  _ something new to do." The taller boy frowned at his cousin. "Beating you at poker is great, but believe it or not, it gets old, and I've just about run out of places to hide your suspenders."

"Yeah, I'd appreciate it if you stopped that. Those were a present from-" He cut himself off. "Anyway. If bugging a spy who could easily kill you will stop you from hiding my stuff, then sure."

"Hell yeah!" They continued down the hall, and just as Oliver thought that perhaps Ethan hadn't heard his slip-up, it was called out. "Who gave you the suspenders?"

Oliver flushed, despite his best efforts. "Oh, y-you know. Just a friend of mine."

He was met with a cheeky elbow from Ethan. "Oh, come on. You're not gettin' outta this that easily, Ollie. Someone ya like?"

"Doesn't matter now." Oliver frowned and stepped away from Ethan. "It's the apocalypse. If she's not with us, she's long gone."

"A gal, huh? Is she pretty?"

"I think you're missing the point, Ethan." He frowned, and it deepened as Ethan's arm slid around his shoulders.

"No, I get it. I mean, fuck, I'm not even from this dimension, but pretty much everyone I know is prolly gone." Oliver felt him tense, and looked up to see his normally lively green eyes were glossy with unspoken worries. "But, I mean, it's nice to talk about 'em still, right? That's what I think, at least."

"I guess."

"And…" He paused and looked to the ground. "Yanno,  _ I _ came from another dimension. Curt and Owen are from different times. Maybe there's a way we can get them back, or go to them."

Something clicked for Oliver, and he wrapped his arm around Ethan. "That's why you're talking to Curt so much?"

It was Ethan's turn to flush. "That's not the only reason. I do think he's cool. And, yanno, like you said. Aesthetic and all that."

"I don't know if he knows  _ how  _ he time traveled, just that he did."

Ethan nodded, disappointed. "Yeah."

They walked, half-embracing, in silence for a bit longer. At the bottom of the stairs, Oliver stopped, holding Ethan back. The leather-clad boy raised an eyebrow.

"Grace. Grace Chastity gave me the suspenders." Oliver admitted.

Ethan stared for a moment before laughing. "Really? Nerdy prude Grace Chastity, thats who you're after?" He ruffled Oliver's hair, walking forward. "Actually, that sounds like a match made in Heaven, huh?"

"She's not a nerdy prude," Oliver grumbled, "She's nice, and smart, and actually respects me, unlike a lot of people."

"She's definitely a nerdy prude, but you are too." Ethan grinned. "It would work out great."

A statement that five minutes prior would have depressed him to the point of tears, it now made Oliver ever-so-slightly hopeful. "Well. Once we find a way out of here, maybe I'll ask her."

In the end they didn't bother Curt, and instead bothered Professor Hidgens until he threatened to experiment on them. But what was family good for, if not getting each other into trouble?

Mid-day on the 28th, Paul and Emma were enjoying each other's presence in the laundry room. They were supposed to be doing laundry, but 5'2" Emma had hopped up on the washing machine to better reach Paul's face and, well, things devolved from there.

Between kisses, Paul was thinking. This happened often. Not for the first time, he remembered his first conversation with Tim.

_ "I'm Emma's… boyfriend."  _ He had said, only slightly confident.

_ "Well,"  _ she had interrupted and immediately destroyed that confidence,  _ "we haven't put a label on it, yet." _

And then, of course, he had to go and say,  _ "But we  _ **_are_ ** _ intimate!" _ To a nine-year-old.

Remembering it made him cringe, and Emma pulled away. "...Something wrong? You can just say if it's too much, or something…"

He appreciated that she looked out for when something was, as she put it, too much, but this time it left him in an awkward situation. "Um," was all he could think to say for a second.

Her hands went to his hair, a place he never minded being touched. Emma was doing her best, but she was clearly confused. "Paul? Can you tell me what's up…?"

He nodded, unfortunately shaking her off of him. "Yes, yes, I just. Lost everything for a second. Uh. Well. I-I was just thinking about, um, Black Friday."

She sighed, tapping her fingers on the washer. "Yeah, that was a shitstorm of a day, huh? But… we're doing better now. Making the best of it, at least…"

Paul shook his head, and then nodded it. "We are, we are, I know. But, I, um. I meant that morning. When we got to Tom's house."

"Oh, the whole  _ 'we're intimate'  _ thing?" She smirked. "Terrible first impression, but hey, it's funny now."

Paul flushed, and leaned against the dryer beside her. "Yeah, that was awful. But I… well, I just keep thinking about, um. Right before that. Not putting a label on it."

It was Emma's turn to be awkward. "Oh. Yeah. ...That."

Both were quiet for a long moment, before Paul started tapping his fists together with a barely-audible clapping sound. "So…?"

"So, what?" Emma mumbled, and he turned to her.

"Well. I think we should."

"Should what?"

"Put a label on it."

"It's 2018, Paul," Emma huffed. "Relationships don't need labels."

"Yeah, but they're nice to have." He looked down at their reflections in the floor. "Good for explaining to people."

"Is that why you want one so bad?"

"I don't know. I just…" He held his breath for a moment. "I really love you, and I'd like to know whether this is something temporary, or something we're actually going to put effort into."

Emma looked at him, surprise evident on her face, as well as a blush. "You love me?"

Paul looked back, expression much calmer than he felt. "Yes, of course?"

For a moment, Emma simply stared, her autumn brown eyes into his winter blue. The moment ended when she abruptly looked away, hopping off of the washing machine. Paul followed suit and stood up from his lean.

"Don't leave!" He didn't mean to shout, or to beg, and anxiety was churning in his stomach and shaking in his hands.

Emma sighed, her back to him. "I'm not leaving, Paul. I just… need a second."

He waited, for more than a second, before asking softly, "Why are you afraid of this?"

Emma shrugged. "I've never been good at relationships. I cut myself off from my sister and her family for years. I don't have any friends from high school that I kept contact with. Coming out as trans cut out a lot of people from my life, but good riddance in that case. Even my last boyfriend, he wanted to get married and I… left." She turned back to him, avoiding his face. "It's easier to stay if there's no label. Because… I want to stay, Paul. I think I love you too and I don't want to fuck it up."

"Oh, Emma…" He stepped forward, arms outstretched; an offering. She accepted, and he held her tight. "I've… never had a long term relationship, not a good one. There's always one thing or another, it's usually my fault. And you know me, I don't even try things that don't interest me. But… I want to try with this, with us, I really do. I was just scared that you didn't."

There was a muffled voice against his chest, and he could make out Emma saying, "I want to try, too."

Paul kissed the top of her head. "We don't need to label it right now. Or ever. As long as we're on the same page. Okay?"

She pulled back from the hug slightly. "Okay."

"Okay!" He repeated with a smile, and for a moment they exchanged "okay"s and laughed. 

Once they were both more at ease, Paul looked over her head at the laundry they had yet to do. "Should we get to work?"

Emma followed his line of sight and shook her head. "Fuck it, we can do it later. I think we should pick up where we left off, hm?"

Paul cracked a grin. "Sounds good to me."

The morning of the 29th, not long before Hannah would be given the all-clear from Becky, Alice was wandering the house, bored and worried, waiting for Deb to return from the mission she had gone on with Professor Hidgens and Ed. Instead of finding something interesting to waste time on, she stumbled upon her dad, Bill.

The Woodward's were not always so tentative around each other. Before the divorce, Bill and Alice were pretty close. She found him the normal amount of overbearing, and he took her to be a pretty average teenager. Once Bill and Delilah split, and she was given majority custody of Alice, things became more tense.

Now, however, Alice didn't even know if her mother was alive, and she was trapped in a building, more bunker than house, with her dad. And despite the end of the world, they still had the same issues they had been having for the last year.

As the two walked around the house, Bill tried to make conversation, and Alice largely ignored him. Until, of course, talk came around to Deb.

"You'd think she'd be more focused on surviving than smoking." Bill had muttered through a strained smile. "Life or death doesn't really leave time for getting high."

Alice, frustrated at this topic yet again, stopped in her tracks. "You know," she glared at him as he stopped to look back at her, "you'd think in the middle of an apocalypse you'd be a little more accepting."

"I'm just saying-"

"You're making stuff up!" Alice threw her hands in the air. "She went out to be helpful, to try and find where the stupid portals are so hopefully we can go through one. Not to steal pot off of a corpse!"

Bill had no response, and Alice, after a tense moment, continued to walk, and he followed.

"I just want the best for you, Alice." He told her quietly.

She rolled her eyes and wandered into the nearest room available, which was just another hallway. Their steps echoed on the black and white tiled floor. "I think I'm old enough to know what's best for me when it comes to dating. It's pretty much the only thing in my life I get to control anymore."

"What are you talking about?" Bill asked, looking around the hallway. He had never been down here before. "You have lots of control over your life. I try to be pretty lenient, actually."

" _ Try  _ is the keyword there, dad." Alice hovered at a door, and then continued down the hallway. "You try to be nice and all that, but you just…" She trailed off, not wanting to say something she'd regret.

Bill paused for a moment. "I just  _ what _ , Alice?"

She didn't respond, in words, and instead walked quicker down the hallway.

" _ Alice. _ " Said Bill, voice firm as he hurried to catch up to her. "Answer me."

"Nothing." She spat out, curling in on herself. "It's nothing, forget it."

"It's clearly not nothing. What is it that makes me so bad a parent, huh? How am  _ I  _ ruining  _ your  _ life?"

"Because you don't listen!" She shouted, stopping in her tracks, hands in her hair. "You don't listen to me! You just assume what I want instead of asking, and when I tell you, you don't listen! So then I don't tell you, and you wonder why I'm so quiet! I'm not quiet! I talk a lot! You just  _ don't listen! _ "

The two stared at each other, silent and emotional. Bill was the first to calm down enough to speak. "I try to listen. I'm sorry that apparently it's not enough."

Alice glared at the floor, feeling pinpricks of tears in the back of her eyes. "What's my favorite color?" She asked, voice wavering slightly.

Bill looked at her for a moment. "Pink, always has been."

"No." She shook her head. "You and mom have been getting me pink stuff since I was seven, but my favorite color is yellow. It has been for years."

Bill frowned. "How were we supposed to know?"

"I told you. Both of you, several times. But you didn't listen." She looked up more. "Do you know my favorite band?"

He thought for a moment. "Last I recall it's that panicked guy."

"Panic! At the Disco." She nods. "I admit, that's closer, I did have an emo phase. But it's AJR. And again, I've told you and mom that before. I asked for some of their albums for my birthday."

Bill sighed, defeated. "Okay. Great. Apparently I know nothing about you, is that what you're getting at?"

Alice fidgeted with her nails, anxious and frustrated. "What I'm getting at is that I've told you these things. But you don't listen, or you don't care enough to remember. But Deb, who you are constantly shitting on,  _ does  _ know that stuff!"

"Don't swear." Bill cut in, equally frustrated. 

"Is that all you got from that?!"

"No!" Bill groaned, covering his face. "Alice, look… I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I've missed this stuff. But the last year has been terrible, and I've barely seen you. So when I  _ do  _ see you, I'm not focusing on your favorite band, I'm focusing on the bigger things in your life. Like your play, and your college plans, and yes, your girlfriend! Believe it or not, Alice, I care about you, and I want to know what's going on in your life because I want you to be safe. Is that so much to ask?"

"If your version of safe is one where I don't get to pick who I date like it's the medieval ages, then yes, it is!"

"That's not what I'm doing, Alice."

"It sure feels like it!"

"I just don't want you getting hurt, or getting involved in something bad."

"Dad!" She turned to him, her anger overriding her anxiety. "Have some faith in me! And have some faith in Deb! She smokes weed, so what? Weed is basically harmless! And she doesn't want to do other drugs,  _ and! _ She has never  _ once  _ pressured me to try smoking. Danny and Sof have, but never Deb. In fact, we stopped hanging out with them for a while because they were being pushy assholes."

Finally, she starts to come down from her emotional high and the anxiety returns. Hiding in her hair, she mutters, "Just believe in me a little, okay? If I felt unsafe or something, I wouldn't still be dating her."

Bill is quiet. He looks at his daughter for a long moment before putting a hand on her shoulder and pulling her into a hug, her face against his chest, his head atop hers. They don't speak, but a silent understanding has been reached, with the hug as the signature.

Once the hug was broken, the two continued to walk together quietly, much more peacefully. They happened across a large, vault-like door and opened it to find a lush greenhouse. They sat in the sun and watched the sky through the dome-like ceiling.

"Do you ever… think about her?" Alice asked, as light snow began to fall.

"Who, your mother?" Bill looked to Alice, and she nodded. He frowned, turning back at the ceiling. "Sometimes. I… I know I'm better off without her. I'm still, even with all this, mad at her." He sighed, shifting his gaze to the grass before him. "But I wouldn't wish this on anyone. I do hope she's okay."

"I miss her." Alice mumbled. Bill rubs her back, a sad smile on his face.

He waits a moment, biting his cheek, before deciding to be honest. "I… Before all of this, I, um. Well, I had started… seeing someone."

Alice looked at him, genuinely surprised. "Who? How long?"

He smiled, almost embarrassed. "Someone from CCRP. She works on the top floor, receptionist for the CEO. Her name is Sylvia, we were only dating for a couple months." Bill paused, fondness turning into nostalgia for things that never happened. "I should've introduced you two when I had the chance. I think you would've liked her."

"More than mom's boyfriend?" Alice asked, amusement evident in her tone.

Bill scoffed. "Way more."

Alice laughed, which led to Bill laughing with her. They spent the rest of the morning talking about friends and relationships, past and present.

Around dinnertime the same day, Alice and Deb were in the kitchen, talking and making food for each other and the other teens. It had been a while since the little group had held a game night, but once Hannah was released from the medical center, tensions felt a little lighter, and they wanted to celebrate.

Alice had never considered herself a great cook, but she lost the rock-paper-scissors tournament, so she was stuck with it. She was just glad that Deb "Took a Shitload of Culinary Classes" Harry offered to help her out, out of the love in her heart, and also out of the guilt she felt after Alice begged her for ten minutes.

"Hey," Deb began as the two waited for the water to boil (they had found a bunch of pasta and figured it was their best bet). "Do you remember Wayward Guide?"

"Oh my God, yes!" The thought brought a smile to Alice's face, but it quickly fell. "We never got to finish it."

"I don't think it got to finish coming out. We were on episode, what, seven?"

"Six, I think."

"And there were supposed to be ten." Deb sighed. "Guess we'll never find out what happened in that weird-ass town."

"Werewolves being real would be the least of our concerns right now."

"I would  _ love  _ werewolves to be real." Deb grinned. "I would be down to be a werewolf."

Alice elbowed her playfully. "Furry."

"You're thinking of Danny." Deb nudged her back. "...Do you think they're okay?"

Alice looked up at her girlfriend, brushing her hair out of her face. "Who, Danny and Sof?"

"Yeah." Deb frowned. "I keep thinking... if we all hadn't split up, they'd just be here with us, right? And they'd be safe. They were assholes sometimes, but…" She trailed off, and Alice reached over and grabbed her hand.

"I'm sure they're okay. They're smart enough to keep out of all chaos." In all honesty, Alice had her doubts, but she didn't want to think they were dead. They may not have been the best of friends, but the thought of people she knew and cared about being gone…

"It's just… We haven't found any survivors." Deb stared into the pot of hot water. "I'm worried for them. Danny, Sof, Zigs… Hell, even Grace Chastity."

Alice bit her lip at the mention of Zigs and Grace. She found that she longed for the days where her biggest concerns were her grades and whether or not Zigs was going to try and steal Deb away from her, rather than whether or not they'd even survive the day.

"Well," she started, trying to be a bit more cheerful. "I heard Curt tell Professor Hidgens that there were people down by Nantucket Bridge! Maybe they're there."

"I hope so. Are people going out there soon? That's a long way to travel on foot."

"Jeez, remember when we could drive everywhere?"

"I have never missed driving more than I do now."

The two laughed, tension slightly lifted. The water was boiling and Deb had Alice put in the noodles. As she stirred, Deb leaned beside her. 

"You know, I never understood why you were jealous of Zigs."

Alice scoffed. "I was  _ not  _ jealous of Zigs. We have a  _ rivalry _ ."

"You have a lot of rivalries." Deb listed on her fingers. "Zigs, Grace, Sof, Bee, probably even me-"

"Oh, hush." Alice tried not to pout. "I just… I love you a lot, you know? I didn't want to lose you over something stupid, like… like not being good enough."

Deb hesitates a moment, and then hugs Alice from behind. "Alice, you'll always be more than enough. If anything, I'm not good enough for you."

"Bullshit!" Alice turned around, properly returning the hug before pulling away slightly so they were face to face. "Deb, you're the most wonderful person I've ever met, and I love you so much. You're a thousand times good enough."

Deb blushed lightly, looking deep into Alice's eyes before they both leaned in, meeting halfway.

Distantly, Alice thought every kiss was as magical as their first, but she knew that wasn't true. Their first kiss was Alice's first ever, and it was kind of a disaster.

Her barely-present thoughts, as well as the kiss, were cut off by the sound of a door closing, and both girls looked to the source of the sound.

Turning away from the now shut door was Curt, hands slightly raised in a non-threatening gesture. Before either of the girls could say anything, Curt whispered, "Don't worry! I'm not gonna tell anyone."

There was a beat before Alice, brushing her hair out of the way, asked, "Uh. Tell anyone what?"

"About you two." He gestured to the two of them with his bad hand. "I, uh. I'm the same way. I promise I won't let anything happen to you because of this, I know some people can be… real violent."

Another moment of silence followed as Alice and Deb looked at each other, confused. A sudden realization crossed Deb's face and she whispered, "Holy shit, he's from the 60s."

"So?" Alice raised an eyebrow, but a moment later understood. "Oh. Oh!" She leaned into Deb's shoulder for a moment and laughed.

She heard Curt ask, "What? What's funny?" sounding confused, and slightly afraid.

The couple broke apart and turned to Curt, hands linked. "Curt…" Alice explained, still not over the humor she found in the situation. "Same-sex marriage was legalized nationwide in 2015. It's… okay to be gay, now. No one is gonna hurt us, not here at least."

Deb nodded. "Hatchetfield is pretty chill. There are still homophobes an' shit, but most people are supportive, or at least don't care."

Curt had been very tense, but as the explanation went on he looked more and more… surprised. Happy, even. "So, you're saying… we don't have to hide? No one's gonna kill us for being like this, we won't get fired and probably killed there, too?"

Deb shook her head. "No, man. Those are pretty extreme cases."

"Some people will still  _ try, _ " Alice added, "but there are laws in place to prevent it. LGBT people might not be accepted everywhere, but they aren't illegal. Not in the U.S.."

Curt nodded, not saying anything further. Alice took a hesitant step forward. "You… You said you were like us?"

He nodded again. "I didn't think-" He cut himself off with a near-choking noise. He had a small smile on his face, yet looked to be on the verge of crying.

Deb offered him a hand. "I was fourteen when it happened, and I cried I was so happy. It's oddly exhausting, to be accepted."

Curt cracked a grin, laughing slightly as he took her hand and squeezed it. He looked to the door, happier than either had seen him in the three days he had been there. "I've gotta tell Owe-" he cut himself off, and the smile dropped instantly.

Deb tapped his hand, trying to get his attention back on them, to no avail. "Hey, man, you okay…?"

Curt nodded, eyes cold. "Fine. I'm fine." He slipped his hand out of Deb's and took a step back towards the door. "...Thanks. For telling me. It's nice to know, really."

"No prob, man." Deb muttered, confused.

"Glad that you can be yourself, now." Alice gave him a smile, hoping it would help a bit.

He gave her a weak smile in return as he opened the door. "Stay safe. Oh, and," he gestured to the pot, "your noodles are burning. See ya!"

Sure enough, they were getting overcooked, and Alice nearly burned herself rushing to get the pot off the fire. Once all the water was drained, they were left with slightly stiff noodles. 

Alice got out plates as Deb quickly heated up some marinara sauce, making a mental note not to put any on Hannah's, as Lex had told her that she didn't like the texture.

"I think him and Owen were dating." Alice stated, plating the noodles. "And that night when they arrived sounds more and more like a break-up."

Deb considered it for a moment, and then nodded. "I can see it. But hey, some relationships end."

"I hope ours doesn't. Alice turned to her girlfriend, a teasing smile on her face. "A thousand and one nights with you isn't enough."

Late afternoon on the 30th, Hannah snuck away from the teens to get some time with herself. Well, with John and Webby. She had been smothered, literally and figuratively, for the last few days and just wanted to talk a walk around the house. 

Apparently, there was a lot she hadn't explored. Alice had told the group about the greenhouse her and her dad had stumbled upon, and no one else had seen it. They sent Oliver as a representative to ask the Professor, and he came back confirming its existence, along with several other rooms the kids had never seen.

Hannah enjoyed nature, and was currently trying to find the greenhouse, but Alice couldn't give very good directions so she was pretty certain she was just getting herself lost. It was less scary than being lost outside, but part of her worried that she would never find her way back.

John and Webby were talking, mostly to each other, but Hannah wasn't listening. Whatever they were talking about, it sounded boring and technical and if it was important they'd tell her later.

She wandered down hallways and up and down stairs, looking for the two details Alice was able to provide; black and white tiled floors, and a big door that looked like a safe.

When she finally came across black and white tiled floors, she bounced, hoping she was finally close. She opened and looked into every door, hoping that it would lead to another hallway that would have the safe-like door to the greenhouse. 

Unfortunately, none of them did. She did, however, throw open a door to find a large library… and a gun pointed in her direction, not for the first time. She let go of the doorknob and ran, only to find herself lost, and apparently having looped back into the same hallway.

As she stopped and looked around for a place to hide, she heard a voice, gently accented. "It's alright, Hannah, it was just instincts, I'm sorry." 

For a moment, Hannah thought the voice was in her head. She faintly saw John kneel beside her, voice calm. "It was a false alarm. It's just him."

Hannah turned around, and walking up to her was Owen, no weapon in sight. He fixed his hair and smiled at her, anxiety hidden under a charming facade.

"Are you alright? I figure you've been in that situation a few too many times, haven't you, my dear?"

She nodded, taking a step back.  _ This  _ Owen was not infected, she knew that, but there was still so much about him that felt off. Perhaps she just trusted Curt too much. The two spies had barely spoken in the few days they had been here, and the few times they were even in the same room the air was tense.

"Hannah?" He kneeled to her height, and she looked firmly at his jacket. It looked warm. "Are you lost?"

She shook her head. "Looking for greenhouse. Safe door."

He nodded. "I haven't come across any greenhouse, sorry. This place is… labyrinthine."

"What?" That was a weird word. Owen and Curt seemed to use a lot of weird words.

"Ah, maze-like. Twisty, confusing." He stood up. "Somehow, this hallway circles back, all while seeming like a straight hallway. I assume it turns very subtly, but who in their right mind would design a place like this? And who would choose to live in it?"

"The Professor."

Owen sighed. "Apparently so." He walked past Hannah, back towards the room she had found him in. "A lot of these rooms are empty, but this library is immaculate. And there's so much I haven't even heard of… probably because they haven't been written yet, I suppose."

Hannah followed him, though she wasn't sure why. She didn't exactly trust him, but he was the most familiar corporeal thing around here, and he knew how to use a gun, so she figured he'd be safe enough for the time being. Furthermore, libraries were nice and quiet, and she was interested in what books the Professor had.

Owen picked a book up off the floor, making sure the pages weren't bent, or at least not much, and sat back in his chair, picking up where he left off.

Hannah searched around for something interesting, Webby and John making suggestions, almost none of which she agreed with. With a huff, she stomped over to the chairs and sat across from Owen. He glanced up at her with a smirk before returning to the page.

"You remind me of him," he said quietly. "Curt, that is. And that's not a bad thing."

Hannah tilted her head. "How?"

"You're intelligent, but not necessarily in the typical way. You're curious about the things that other people do, and try to copy them, but can't stay with it." He smiled, gaze steadily on his book. "It's comforting, I suppose, to have someone oddly familiar around."

Hannah looked at her feet. "What're you reading?"

He paused a moment before explaining. "It's called Doctor Zhivago. The book doesn't seem to have a publishing date," he flips to the beginning for emphasis and to look again, keeping his spot with his thumb, "but I've never heard of it before. It's about Communism in Russia at the beginning of the century. There's a romance aspect too, but it seems to mostly be a tragedy."

"Sad things aren't… always bad."

Owen nodded. "I completely agree. And while this book is a bit hard to follow, it's very interesting."

Hannah nodded back, and continued to stare at her feet. For a few minutes they sat in silence, Owen reading and Hannah thinking, before she finally spoke up again.

"What do you.. think of Curt?"

Owen kept his expression neutral and his eyes on the book. "We were partners. Friends. It's all over now, and so we are simply… survivors, existing in the same space." He aggressively flipped a page. "There's not really anything else to it."

Hannah kicked her feet. "Think you like him. I think you like him, still."

Owen hesitated a moment, staring at (but not necessarily reading) his book. "...I don't think I do. He left me, humiliated me in front of you all, was ready to shoot me… It was a  _ betrayal _ ."

Hannah looked up. Owen's voice had faltered at the end, and his expression had similarly twisted. Dark eyes continued to glare at the book, which he gripped tightly. Before Hannah could speak up, he continued.

"You know, he swore he never would. He promised me, he would keep in touch when he could, he wouldn't lie to me, he wouldn't  _ abandon me _ like everyone else-" The book was dropped, and Owen's hands pulled at his hair, eyes screwed shut, breath speeding up, and he continued, "He said he wouldn't do this to me, he knew what the others had done, but apparently he's a  _ filthy liar _ who was prepared to shoot me on the spot! I can't believe he fooled me, I can't believe I trusted him, why would he do this? He promised he would always love me!"

With that, Owen seemed to snap out of it. His eyes opened wide and he seemed, for a moment, calm. Quietly, he added, "He promised. And I promised him the same." 

His hands fell to his lap as he took long, calculated breaths, lost in thought. He stared forward at Hannah, but saw straight through her.

She sat quietly, watching his chest rise and fall. "Partners." She whispered. "Not just spies?"

Owen gave a microscopic nod in response. "He always called  _ me  _ out for holding grudges, losing my temper…" He leaned down to pick up the book that had fallen from his lap, once again checking for creased pages. "It seems the tables have turned. I just wish I knew why."

He tried to return to his book, but Hannah continued to watch him, mindlessly. She knew what happened. Rather, she knew part of it. She wondered if telling him would help, or make things worse.

_ "Broken bones, broken trust,"  _ Webby muttered.  _ "Bloody bullets, bloody hands. Spies never die." _

"Spies never die," Hannah repeated.

Owen looked up. "What did you just say?"

She looked away, at the arm of the chair he was sitting on. "Spies never die."

"...Where did you learn that phrase?"

"Webby."

"Ah," he tried to relax, but Hannah could tell he was confused. "The, um, space spider, is it? She… she sounds nice, from what I hear."

Hannah nodded. "Very nice. Protects me." She paused. "Most people… don't think she's real."

"Is she real to you?" He asked, leaning forward. Hannah nodded. "That's all that really matters, doesn't it?"

Hannah bit her lip, shrugging. "People say I'm weird. Crazy." She flapped her hands, anxious, but then settled on tugging her braids. "Lexie says… Wired differently."

"Does your sister believe in Webby?"

She nodded. "I think… she didn't, 'til Black Friday."

Owen hummed. "That whole mess is still rather confusing to me, I admit. Dimensions, monsters, timelines… And war with Russia. I guess our work really is for nothing."

Hannah watched his fists clench and bit her lip harder. "You're helpful!" She exclaimed, much louder than she wanted. "You… You and Curt. Help a lot, I know it. Helped me, and the Professor, and everyone. I dunno about before, but… I'm sure you helped then."

Owen was quiet for a long moment, and she continued to bite her lip. When she dared to look closer to his face, she saw him smiling softly. 

"I'm sorry, Hannah." He stood, walking over to her. "You're smart and brave, but you're still so young. I shouldn't be stressing you with my problems."

Kneeling in front of her, his smile faltered. "Look at that, your lip is bleeding."

Hannah reached up to her face and saw that she did, indeed, draw blood. "Sorry, sorry."

"No, no, don't be. I thank you for listening, but I shouldn't have worried you." He stood and offered her a hand. After a moment of hesitation, she lightly took it, standing herself. 

Owen's hands were rough and calloused, and she was sure there was theoretical blood covering every square centimeter… but something about them comforted her. These were hands capable of so much pain, but he chose to do good. Hands that wielded a gun, but also flipped pages through pages of love stories. 

When they reached the doorway of the library, his grip slackened, but Hannah held tighter. He faltered for a moment before resuming his hold.

"Alright, then." He looked around. "Let's see if we can't find our way back to the group, shall we?"

Hannah wiped the blood off her chin and gave him a nod. He led the way, but walked at Hannah's pace. 

As they neared familiar hallways, she looked up at him. "You're like Curt, too." She told him, honesty ringing in her tone. "You're both good."

The evening of the 31st, the teen had convinced the adults to throw a small party for the New Year, in hopes it would boost morale. At least, that was their reason; the truth was more that they were getting bored hanging out by themselves.

All things considered, the party went rather well, though the usual cliques and couples stuck more to themselves. Everyone was far too tired to stay up till midnight, and the Professor didn't quite trust the clocks anyway, so around ten o'clock most everyone had retired to their rooms.

Not long after falling asleep, Ethan and Oliver were woken up to the sound of panicked breathing and someone thrashing around. Flipping on the lights, they found the source was in the room with them — it was Curt. He was tangled in his sheets, his normally neatly-combed hair stuck to his face with sweat, his breath quick and sporadic.

Oliver put on his glasses and joined Ethan at Curt's bedside. Ethan was gently shaking Curt's arm, trying to wake him up, but only succeeding in making everything worse. The spy lashed out, just narrowly missing Ethan, who jumped back.

"Don't mess with him," Oliver advised, backing up himself. "It's obviously a nightmare. He'll either wake up or get through it."

"That's a shitty way of dealing with it," Ethan grumbled. He gestured widely to Curt, glaring at Oliver. "Does that look like he's just gonna get through it? We gotta do something."

"There's nothing we  _ can _ do. It's  _ his  _ nightmare,  _ he  _ has to deal with it."

"Banana gets nightmares all the time. This doesn't…" He looked back to Curt with worry in his brow. "This doesn't look the same."

"Hannah is thirteen, Curt is… Well, I don't know how old he is, but he's an adult. Of course there's a difference."

Ethan stayed quiet for a moment before snapping and turning back to Oliver. "He's a spy!"

"Yes," Oliver sighed, "we've known that."

"I know, I know, but listen. He's clearly been a spy for a while, he's prolly been through some shit. Maybe it's that fuckin', uh… thing Mr. Houston's got!"

"PTSD?" Oliver thought for a moment. "That… does make sense, actually."

"Yeah! And it takes one to know one!"

"Wait, what?"

Before Oliver could get Ethan to explain further, he was gone, rushing out of the room and down the hall. Oliver sighed and sat on his bed, rubbing his eyes. 

It wasn't that he didn't care about Curt, but the spy didn't seem like the type to want someone to sit with him through a nightmare or a flashback or whatever this was. He also just really wanted to get back to sleep.

Ethan came back a few minutes later, with a very tired Tom in tow. Oliver held his head in his hands. "You woke up Mr. Houston?!" He whisper-shouted.

"Yeah!" Ethan chirped, at a normal volume. "Because, like, if he's got it he would know how to help."

"Ethan, it's the middle of the night-"

"It's alright, Oliver." Tom held up a hand and the boys settled down. "This shit… it sucks to be alone. You were just doing what you thought was right."

With that, he kneeled beside Curt's bed and did as Ethan did, gently shaking the man to try and wake him up. Again, he lashed out, but Tom caught his arm, holding it steady.

"Curt? C'mon, buddy, you can snap out of it…" Tom's voice was calm and steady, and sadly experienced.

Curt continued to struggle, and Tom continued to try and wake him up. Now that the door was open, his struggles and cries could be heard down the hall, and a few people showed up, confused and sleepy, looking for answers. 

Finally, Curt's eyes shot open and he lunged forward, reaching for something, screaming one word:  **_"OWEN!"_ **

The cry was pure, visceral anguish, and those close enough could feel it echoing in their chests. Curt sat, gasping, in his bed, awake but not necessarily aware.

Tom had one hand on Curt's chest still, and eventually the spy found and clutched it. It seemed to help ground him, and he went from staring vacantly at the wall to Tom, and then further back to Ethan and Oliver.

Just as his breathing seemed to even, there were footsteps, and everyone looked to the door. Owen had just walked up, tucking his gun away into the inside of a half-put on jacket.

Him and Curt locked eyes, and for a few long moments, there was silence. 

Just as Owen began to speak, Curt pulled Tom's hand off of him and got out of bed, pulling on his own jacket. He still seemed dazed, and his breathing was far from even.

As he headed for the door, Tom put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Curt, you should sit-"

The spy was clearly not listening, as he shrugged Tom's hand off his shoulder and muttered, "I just need a drink."

He slipped past Owen and the rest of the small crowd, heading down the hall, and down the stairs, into the kitchen.

His flask had been empty for a while now. Every now and then, when this happened and he didn't feel like refilling it, he would try and convince himself into going sober. His current high score was a week.

The Professor, luckily, had an extensive collection of booze, and Curt had found in his short stay at the house that modern alcohol was much more potent than what he was used too.

_ All the quicker to get shitfaced _ , he told himself, pouring some very strong vodka into his flask.

As he sat at the bar, drinking from the bottle, he tried to fix his hair and calm down from his nightmare. It was always the same, with small, insignificant changes.

Owen died. Twice. Just like real life. They were both Curt's fault. Just like real life. 

Every time, he told himself he had moved on. That the Owen he killed wasn't the man he once knew. And he was just starting to believe it when this shit happened.

Owen was back, and he didn't know what to do, so he pushed him away. He'd rather Owen hate him then have him die by his hands a third time. He already had to shoot a zombie-Owen, and even that was too much. Had him breaking down in front of a kid, who does that?

He fiddled with the flask. Owen had gotten it for him, for his 25th birthday; his first after they started dating. That night they had hid away and drank out of it together, the taste of the alcohol an afterthought to the presence of each other.

Fuck, he missed Owen. He missed him every day.

The barstool next to Curt was pulled back with a screech, and a man in a familiar brown jacket sat beside him. He stole the bottle out of Curt's hand and took a swig.

Owen set it back down with a sigh. "We can't keep doing this. It's not how we work."

Curt took the bottle back, avoiding looking at Owen as much as he could. "Keep doing what?" He asked, playing dumb, before taking another drink.

"Avoiding each other. Causing infighting." Frustrated, Owen added, "Playing dumb and getting wasted," as he once again took the bottle from Curt and slid it down the counter away from them both.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Curt argued, reaching for his flask. Owen got to it first, and Curt tensed. "That's mine."

"I'm the one who gave it to you," Owen frowned, tracing his finger over the engraved symbol. It was a tree, fully in bloom, but the trunk was a helix. Owen remembered that he enjoyed the symbolism, but Curt just thought it was a neat tree.

Owen tapped the flask. "You said you wanted to grow a tree like this someday." He smiled fondly, recalling their late-night discussion about an ideal future. "You wanted it in the backyard of the house, with a tire swing so you could spin the kids around until they were too dizzy to stand."

Curt chuckled, tapping the countertop. "Yeah… but you told me trees don't grow like that, and it's just a symbol or whatever."

"It means resilience. And the tree is for change." Owen set the flask back on the counter. "A little contradictory, but I thought it suited you perfectly."

Curt sighed, stealing the flask back, but not drinking from it. He stuffed it into the inner pocket of his jacket, and dared to look over at Owen.

"You're handsome." He nodded. "I can say that now, you know? It's not illegal. I won't die for it anymore." He leaned on the counter, not looking away. "It's nice. One less thing to be constantly stressed about."

Owen nodded, smiling, but stared steadily at the countertop. "I heard. Alice said she thought I should know."

"She's a good kid. They're all… good people, you know?"

Owen nodded, and then abruptly shook his head. "You got me off topic, you old bloke. I wanted to talk about us."

Curt was suddenly brought back to reality and forced himself to look away from Owen. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Yes there is. I understand why you were wary of me at first, but you've become so aggressive, and you're  _ still  _ avoiding me… What did I do? Why are you-" The words died in his throat, but Curt understood. Guilt settled in his stomach as he glared across the counter at the fridge.

"I can't tell you." He finally responded. "It's… It hasn't happened for you yet. It's not  _ your  _ fault."

Owen was quiet. Curt glanced over and winced when he was met with the other man's seething glare. He looked too much like the man Curt killed on the stairs.

"I'm dead." Owen stated flatly.

Curt sat up, eyes wide. "What?"

The two spies locked eyes. "By 1963 I'm dead, aren't I?" He asked. Curt said nothing, and Owen sighed. "I'm not stupid, Curt, it's not that hard to figure out."

"...Yes." Curt gulped.

"Yes what?"

"Don't make me say it, Owe."

Owen nodded, conflict showing in his eyes as he finally looked away and released Curt from his trance. "That still doesn't make sense. Death is part of the job, Curt, it's inevitable. Even if I died  _ very  _ recently for you, how you're acting makes no sense."

Curt sputtered, an anger rising in him. "What the hell are you talking about? How does this not make sense to you?"

"The Curt I knew wouldn't let himself drown in grief and misery. He wouldn't lose himself like you clearly have. Yes, he would mourn, and I believe he would miss me. But for all his bullheadedness, the Curt I know would understand that he has to keep going."

Curt is silent for a moment, swallowing his emotions to keep his voice level. "You don't know what happens."

"I don't need too." Owen faced Curt once again, holding his counterparts' face to force eye contact. "Curt. I love you. I love every version of you. But  _ this  _ you is not the man I know and love. He's not the man I'm partnered with in every way." He gently rubbed his thumb over Curt's cheek before reaching up and fixing his hair. "I'd like to be partners again. But to do that you have to trust me."

"It's not that I don't trust you," Curt whispered, leaning into the touch. "It's that I don't trust myself."

"Now what could've possibly happened to cause that?"

"I don't think I should tell you." He gulped. "I don't know if I can."

"Of course." There was a beat, and Owen sighed. "Seeing you like this kills me. Seeing you not trust me, or yourself, it truly hurts me. But…" He pulled his hands away, and for a moment Curt chased after the warmth. "...That's not something  _ I  _ can fix. Not without you putting in the effort, too."

Curt paused, gazing into Owen's brown eyes; honey brown, you know? Light mixed with some dark, and in the light they're  _ really  _ pretty. They were really pretty right now, too.

"If I… got better," he asked, slowly, not looking away, "what would you do?"

Owen chuckled, smiling sadly. "I'd see if anyone around here knows any happy songs and lead you in a dance."

He sighed, standing and patting Curt's shoulder. "Maybe we'll get there. It's been a long time since we've danced."

"Yeah… maybe." Curt muttered, hanging his head.

Owen began to leave, but paused at the doorway, looking back at Curt. "Goodnight, love. And happy New Year."

Curt looked up; a clock on the mini-oven (apparently called a microwave) read 12:11AM in bright green numbering. When he looked back to the door, Owen was gone, but he still whispered "Goodnight, darling," into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay gamers. here's the breakdown of my dumb thoughts.  
> 1\. tom and becky..... love them...... support each other.....  
> 2\. Ethan and Oliver are fuckin nerds. also at this point in time I no longer thing HCB is Oliver, but seeing how I wrote him this way I gotta keep it! and I like him he's neat. also the grace chastity thing is bc Im pretty sure that if Grace isn't a lesbian or something (and seeing how Bill suggested Alice date her, she might be) then I think she'll end up with HCB, because I think he'll end up being an Actual Character in NPMD  
> 3\. /whips in Paul is autistic and Emma is trans  
> 4\. ahaha teeny tiny TTO references. also ily Bill. I think Alice would find Sylvia overbearing but eventually grow on her  
> 5\. LISTEN I THINK A LOT ABOUT CURT AND OWEN FINDING OUT THAT THEY HAVE RIGHTS also its funny bc when I wrote this scene, the referenced episode of wayward guide was the one that had just came out :> :> :> ALSO TWISTED REFERENCE AHHHH  
> 6\. motherfucker I think SO MUCH about Owen's villainy. I tried to show here some negative traits we kinda seem with DMA and Owen at the end that I figure were always with Owen (temper, grudges, abandonment issues) because I LOVE that shit, ask me about it I WILL go off  
> 7\. /whips in curt has ptsd and also uh listen I love curt and Owen but I also love making them suffer so ahaha


	19. Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
> -a kid gets choked  
> -someone gets shot  
> -manipulation from a parental figure

Hannah blinked. Her vision stayed fuzzy, her other senses similarly muted. Everything felt far away.

She couldn't remember how she had gotten outside again, and so far into town, further than she had gone on Christmas. She called for Webby and John, but neither answered. Hannah couldn't even hear her own voice.

As she walked past abandoned buildings, she came across two men, neither of whom she could make out too well. One had glasses, and was dressed warmly. The other stood with unnaturally good posture, like he didn't feel the cold at all. 

"Hello, sir," The strange man spoke, tone flat. "It's very cold out. Do you need somewhere to stay?"

"You can dr-drop the act," the bespeckled man chattered in a nasally voice. "Our le-leaders are brothers. I've come to st-strike a deal."

The strange man tilted his head. "You are not one of us, yet you know of Pokotho?" He waited as the man with the glasses nodded. "Interesting. What is this deal?"

"Hi-Hidgen's group is a problem for us both," he explained. "I c-can help you get in. I just n-ne-need one of them."

"Simple enough."

"There's more," he interrupted, raising a gloved hand. "N-Not just _any_ one of them. We need th-the Prophet."

The strange man seemed to stiffen further, if that was possible. "What purpose does _he_ have with the Prophet?"

"She can in-interact with the Black and White. W-We need her to co-complete our project."

The strange man didn't respond for a long moment. "We need her as well. We'll agree to this deal as long as she is given to us once he is finished with her."

The bespectacled man nodded feverently. "Of c-course! Of course. And I pr-promise you, I'm a man of my word. A-Always was."

He offered his hand to shake, but the strange man did not take it. Instead, his voice grew intense as he added, "Make sure to tell him not to break her, or he'll have Pokotho to answer too. And _you_ will have it even worse."

The man with the glasses took his hand back and nodded again, slower. The strange man waited a moment before speaking again, though it was closer to singing. "So~ when do we start?"

Before the man with glasses could respond, Hannah's world spun, becoming even harder to understand than before. She felt herself falling through the ground, and then through an endless black expanse, past bright, looming eyes, and into the many large arms of a familiar woman in white.

Hannah blinked. The fluorescent lights above her flickered near-imperceptibly. She was safe in her bed, in the Professor's house.

Her head was spinning from what she had just experienced, and she jumped when Lex rubbed her back.

Her sister took away her hands the second Hannah flinched. "Hey, Banana, happy New Year. How are you feeling?"

Hannah reached for her braids, only to find they had been undone, like every night. "Bad day," she croaked out.

"Bad day? It's barely started," Lex frowned. "What's wrong?"

Hannah tried to talk, but the light was still flickering and no one else seemed to notice, and her dream was still vivid in her memory, and her ears were ringing, and she _still_ hadn't heard from Webby or John, so try as she might, she couldn't make herself say anything more. She settled for shaking her head at Lex and waving her off. 

Lex nodded, offering her hand, which Hannah refused. "You tell me when you're ready, okay?" She whispered, and Hannah nodded. The older girl looked to the end of Hannah's bed before reluctantly returning to getting ready.

Hannah put on the Warriors cap and pulled her blanket over her head. The world was too much for the moment, she just needed to calm down a bit.

As the fog began to clear and she could think a bit more clearly, there was a faint voice in her head. _"Safe, Hannah. Caught you."_

"I know," She whispered. "I-" Her voice caught in her throat.

"Don't force yourself," whispered John. She could see part of his crossed legs cutting through the blanket into her tented area. "Just relax. I'll see if I can get the lights off."

"No!" She croaked, pulling her hair too hard. "Stay, stay…"

John didn't respond, but he didn't leave either. Listening, Hannah could hear people walking, and the lights flicked off. A humming she hadn't even registered until then stopped, and she almost immediately felt better.

"Do you want me to stay, Banana?" She heard Lex whisper at her side.

Hannah decided not to try and talk this time and instead stuck her hand out from under the blanket. Lex took it and gave it a gentle squeeze.

The girls sat quietly in the dark until Hannah felt calm enough to get ready for the day. The first day of 2019 — what a way to start.

They sat on Hannah's bed as Lex braided her hair, John somewhat visible, sitting on the edge.

"Can you tell me what upset you?" Lex asked, tying off the first braid after several tries to get it looking nice in the dark.

Hannah fiddled with the Warriors' cap in her hands. "Nightmare time… I think."

"You think?"

"People talking. In town. Coming here, looking for Prophet." She looked over her shoulder, making eye contact with her sister. "Not safe here. Someone's coming."

Lex paused, unsure how to respond. "We're pretty safe here, this place is, well. A safehouse, more or less. If someone comes in we can hide in one of those rooms deeper inside until they pass, and then sneak out, or fight back."

Hannah shook her head, but turned so Lex could restart the other braid. "Not safe. Made a deal. Looking for Prophet."

"Didn't they call Linda the Prophet?" Lex pointed out. "And she's dead, so we're safe. If they're looking for her body, it's… well, I guess Gary made off with it, but it's probably still by the mall."

"Linda was the Prophet of Wiggly," John clarified, and Lex jumped.

"Fuck, _that's_ what you sound like?"

"Oh, you can hear me?" He looked down to Hannah, who was still fidgeting. "I suppose that makes sense."

"Yeah, Hannah told me about the, uh, emotional link thing," she sighed. "I guess this is pretty serious, then."

"We saw it, too," he told Lex. "Me and Webby, that is. It was different than the usual premonitions. It was… too clear. Too long."

"So that means what? It's not from the future?"

John snapped back up to look at Lex, but quickly looked away from her face. "A solid theory, though all the more worrying. If it's not from the future, then it's already happened. Their plan is surely in action already."

"Well, they're looking for Linda, right?" Lex tied off Hannah's other braid, patting her sister's head before letting her put on the Warriors' cap. "Why would they come here if they're looking for her?"

"That's what I was saying. Linda was the Prophet of Wiggly. But three separate times now, Hannah has been called the Prophet of Hatchetfield by the Infected," John explained.

Lex's face dropped. "They're looking for Hannah?"

"It would seem so."

She clenched her fists for a moment before forcing herself to relax and putting a hand on Hannah's shoulder, getting her attention. "Hey, we're gonna protect you, okay? No one's gonna hurt you, not on my watch. Okay?"

Hannah bit her lip, but nodded. "Okay."

"Good!" Lex smiled. "We should tell everyone about this, right? So we can prepare? Lock the house down and all that?"

Hannah nodded again, and the two girls got up, John following suit. As they walked through the house, warning those they found, Hannah tried to gage people's reactions. 

The teens overall believed her, or at least were worried enough to help out. The adults, however, were a bit harder to convince.

Tom believed her, he had been trusting her predictions wholeheartedly since she kept Tim safe outside, and he seemed to convince Becky. Curt believed her, for reasons he couldn't articulate beyond a gut feeling.

The rest were a different story. Owen claimed to believe her, but seemed more confused than anything. The Professor said he believed her, and even spoke of preparing, but it didn't sound like he was taking it seriously, or really listening that much. The rest wrote it off as a nightmare, most citing that Hannah couldn't give enough details to solidify it as a real threat.

The only three remaining people to tell were Bill, Paul, and Oliver, who had been out since earlier in the morning, looking for a usable vehicle so the group could hopefully travel to the Nantucket Bridge and see who exactly had holed themselves up there.

Feeling defeated, Hannah sat in the Fun Room with Lex, making chess pieces fight or kiss or something, she couldn't really tell, they didn't have faces or limbs. 

"It'll be alright, Hannah," Lex tried to reassure her. "Some people don't believe you, and they're idiots, but they'll still help protect you, even if only because they're gonna be protecting themselves too, get it?"

Hannah nodded, not looking up from the table. She was getting really sick of these life-or-death scenarios, and she didn't want anyone else getting hurt.

Across from her, beside Lex, sat John. He was a bit ghostly to Hannah, a little quiet for Lex, but present nonetheless. He had tried to give Lex and Hannah more information to help convince people, but there were some screw-ups in the relay, and not everyone knew what the hell he was talking about, so he ended up feeling a bit pointless.

He fidgeted with his vest and hair, earning a couple curious looks from Lex, which he ignored. Him and the Foster's had decided not to go telling everyone he was there, as his case seemed to be different and more complicated than Webby's, and most people in the house only barely believed in her. 

With only Hannah and Webby, and occasionally Lex, to talk too, John had been feeling more and more disconnected, ostracized, and that was on top of the several dangerous situations Hannah had gotten into recently, some of which were his fault. One of which almost killed her.

No one wanted to consider how things would be if John hadn't managed to break out of the Black and White. Hannah would've died — worse, been infected — but that would've only been the start. Lex and the others surely would've looked for her, possibly getting infected themselves. The Hive would have access to Hannah's powers. 

And what would happen to John? Would he be tethered to an Infected? Would it affect him, too? Or would he cease to exist, like he was supposed too?

John blinked hard, looking away from the spot on the table he had been glaring a hole into. He was safe, for now. More importantly, _Hannah_ was safe. And he would make sure she _stayed_ safe.

Lex, apparently tired of the sullen silence, began collecting and setting up the chessboard. "C'mon, Banana, let's play. You've been getting pretty good."

Hannah handed over her pieces, and as they were deciding who would be what color, a crowd came in. Ethan stomped over to Lex and Hannah, looking irritated, and sat where John was, though he couldn't see. Hannah covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing, and Lex sputtered as John stood and paced around the area instead.

Along with Ethan, Alice and Deb had come in, huddled together, looking worried.

"What happened?" Lex asked, looking at her boyfriend.

Ethan's frown deepened. "Henry's being a dick. He said there's no threat to prepare for, if the Infected get in then it'll be fine, yadda yadda."

"And the group is late," He added, rubbing his face. "Bill, Paul, Oliver, they went looking for a car, they should've been back a while ago."

"That explains a lot," Lex sighed, rubbing Ethan's back. She looked to Hannah across the table and shrugged. "I guess you were right about it being a bad day, huh?"

Hannah nodded, looking at the black and white pieces on the chessboard. She decided that too many things were black and white. They were really overrated colors.

Deb had decided to distract Alice by putting on a movie. Since getting the TV and setup on Christmas, the group had held a couple movie nights, but not as frequent as cinema fanatic Ethan would've liked. 

Though it was a little late for it, they found a version of A Christmas Carol that was some kind of 80s musical. On any other day, Hannah would've enjoyed it, but today she just had too many thoughts, too many worries, and music was just too much. 

She covered her ears and glared harder at the chessboard. Lex tapped the table to get her attention. "Do you wanna go somewhere quieter?"

"Yeah, say the word, Banana, and we'll split," Ethan dropped his pouting and gave her a smirk.

Hannah shook her head. "Stay here. Gotta stay here. Safer here."

Lex bit her lip, and glanced at John. He held his breath, worry in his brow. There was something in the air. Maybe it was the emotions in the room, but he couldn't help agreeing with Hannah; it was safer in the Fun Room. 

When she didn't get a verbal response from John, Lex sighed and looked back to Hannah. "Okay. We won't go anywhere you don't wanna go."

Hannah hummed her thanks, and she sunk into the chair. It was terrible in here, but she had to stay. She had to stay.

About halfway through the Christmas Carol, Hannah sat up, eyes wide, looking at the door. John had done similar, and Lex followed their gazes. "What is it?" she whispered.

"Don't open it," Hannah whispered back. "Don't open it."

In her head, Webby was chanting, _"Stay locked, stay safe, stay locked, stay safe, stay locked, stay safe-"_

Ethan raised an eyebrow, looking to the door as well. "There's no one there, Han-"

The doorknob rattled before he could finish. The door was locked. Alice turned down the TV, and Lex threw a chess piece at her to get her attention.

"Don't open it," she whisper-yelled through gritted teeth.

Holding her head where the piece hit her, she gave Lex a confused look, mouthing "What the fuck?"

The doorknob rattled again. After a moment, it was followed by a knock. And then another. And then a voice.

"Hello? Anyone in here?"

Alice jumped up; it was Bill. She ran to the door, relieved her dad was finally back.

"Don't!" Hannah and John shouted at the same time, though only one was audible to her.

It was too late. Alice unlocked and opened the door, and upon seeing it was, indeed, Bill, she hugged him. "You've gotta stop doing this, you keep coming back late and giving me panic attacks!"

Bill looked around the room before hugging Alice back tightly. He gave everyone else a tight smile. "I promise I won't do that anymore. What've you all been up too?"

Deb shrugged. "Watchin' a movie… I think they're playin' chess."

Bill looked to the chess table, where everyone was tense and anxious. Hannah and him locked eyes before she looked away, focusing on Alice's hair instead.

His grin grew, and he stepped forward, shutting the door behind him. "Sounds like fun," he patted Alice's head, and she finally began to release her hug.

Bill's grip remained firm. He looked to the TV, which had been paused. "A musical? My favorite!"

Alice laughed, but it sounded nervous. "Yeah, a little more like a horror movie given our current situation…" She tried once again to escape his hug, and again failed.

She coughed. "Uh, dad… You can let me go now…"

Bill continued to look at the (still paused and muted) TV. "I think I know that song, too. It's sweet." He looked down at Alice with a smile that had turned unnerving. "Reminds me of you, Alice."

Hannah covered her ears as the man began to sing, all but forcing Alice to dance with him.

_"I don't know about fancy things,_

_I don't know about luxury~_

_But tonight I feel like a King_

_surrounded by the Royal Family."_

His singing was too perfect for someone who had never seen the movie before and only seen some of the lyrics on screen. Alice realized this too and screamed, trying, desperately, to get away from the man who was once her father. Hannah could see her arms bruising from across the room. 

As the song continued, Lex and John stood in front of Hannah, hiding her in the corner and looking around the room for any potential weapons. Ethan and Deb, meanwhile, tried to wrench Alice free from Bill's grip, with little success, as he repeatedly knocked them away.

_"Being with you,_

_Being together is a treasure_

_Impossible to measure_

_It's priceless!_

_Even a King_

_Even a Queen_

_Could never buy this,_

_feeling that's inside us,_

_it's priceless!_

_Priceless!_

_Priceless~"_

Lex stood to help, and Hannah grabbed her sleeve, shaking her head. She repeated what Webby was now saying, "People coming, gunshot, run, gunshot, run. Wait for gunshot. Lexie," she begged, "Don't leave."

Lex looked back to where the struggle was happening, hesitant, and then kneeled beside Hannah again. "I won't leave you, Hannah. I'll be running right with you, okay?"

There was a crash, and the girls looked back to the fight. Ethan and Deb had finally gotten Alice out of Bill's grasp, and he was standing in front of the doorway, silent. In the moment everyone was holding their breath, he looked to Alice, and began to sing a different tune as he shambled closer.

_"Why does it hurt to love you?_

_Why am I in pain?_

_Why does it hurt to know you?_

_You've let me down again…_

_If I turned my insides out,_

_would you even know that I was there?_

_Why does it hurt to love you?_

_Why does it hurt to love…"_

His haunting words seemed to have frozen Alice, as she breathed heavily, panicking, looking for any recognition in his now blue eyes. He put his hands on Alice's shoulders, and the rest happened in a flash.

Alice screamed.

Deb and Ethan rushed to get Bill off of Alice again.

The door was kicked open, and in the doorway stood the Professor, gun at his hip.

There was yelling, Hannah was too scared to make it out exactly, and Curt took the gun from Professor.

A gunshot.

Hannah blinked, and Bill was on the floor, lying on top of Alice, blue blood leaking from a wound in his stomach.

It was Deb's turn to scream as she rushed to Alice's side, shoving Bill's corpse off of her.

Lex covered Hannah's eyes, but she saw. Red blood.

She heard the gun fall, she heard Curt sputtering, piecing together what happened and trying to fix it before he fell apart himself, she heard Deb scream obscenities at him in response-

"Deb, no!" Lex yelled, jumping up and removing her hands from Hannah's eyes.

Deb had her lips to Alice's. She sat up, pressed on Alice's chest a few times, and did it again. Ethan and Lex tried to drag her away, but she punched Ethan between his legs and sent him tumbling, successfully distracting Lex.

She kissed Alice again, and then jerked back as Alice coughed. 

For a moment, Deb looked relieved, before she began coughing as well. Coughs became hacks, became frantic wheezes, and she was choking. Hannah's breath caught in her throat as Alice's head turned to her; the blood around her mouth was blue.

Deb collapsed, but was up quick. She too looked to Hannah, eyes shining with something inhuman.

Three voices sang in unison as three bodies arose, the melody ringing in Hannah's ears.

 _"Look what happens,_ **_Nightmare Time!!!_ ** _"_

 _"RUN, HANNAH!"_ Webby's voice boomed louder than the Infected's, and Hannah jumped up and ran right as the three lunged for her.

She collided with the Professor in the doorway, and he held her in place for only a moment. She met his eyes for what felt like the first time ever, and her blood ran cold when she saw the wild look within them.

She was shoved, and she heard Curt yelling, telling her to run, to get away. She didn't think twice listening.

Halfway down the hall, she heard a gunshot and spun around, looking for any sign of Lex and Ethan. Relieved, she spotted Curt shoving them in the other direction.

She would meet up with them on the bottom floor, and they'd be safe together. Everything would be fine.

Hannah ran down the hall and tried not to trip down the stairs. At the bottom, she looked towards the main room, trying to see if Lex and Ethan were at the bottom yet.

"Look out!" John yelled, but he was too late.

There was an arm around Hannah's neck, and before she could scream, there was one over her mouth and nose as well. The arms squeezed, and Hannah's head spun with panic as she recognized the too-familiar feeling of losing oxygen.

She kicked and clawed and tried to bite and yell, but whoever her assaulter was, they didn't let up. John was solid in front of her, at first pulling out his gun and shooting, but there were only clicks. Clearly frustrated, he threw it at the person holding her hostage, but it seemed to do no good.

With no other weapons, John tried to punch and pull the person's arms off of Hannah, but he continued to just phase through, doing nothing.

Hannah felt tears streaming down her face as her vision became spotty and her head light.

"..nnah! Hannah!" John shouted, cutting through the fog in her mind. She met his eyes, and despite all seeming lost, felt safer. "Hannah, blink if you can see me, quickly."

She did so, and he wasted no time. Cupping his hands around his mouth, John shouted louder than she had ever heard before. "LEX! LEX, WE NEED YOUR HELP! LEX!!!"

As Hannah's eyes shut again, she found she couldn't force them open again. She heard a scream, and a crash, and then she was falling through endless black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to the "its about spies" discord server, love y'all and im honestly shocked people that aren't my immediate friend group are reading this
> 
> also let me say i fucking love the VHS christmas carol and Priceless is one of my favorite songs and so when it came on when i was writing this, well..... you know i had to do it to em


	20. Bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the halfway point of the fic :> this chapter kicks off the events that lead to the end and im excited!
> 
> oh also slight nightmare time episode 3 spoilers, but nothing huge

"Hannah… Hannah? C'mon, you gotta wake up, silly."

The voice was soft and kind and not one Hannah had ever heard before. She would remember such a calming voice.

Opening her eyes, the world felt blurry and soft, but what was more surprising was the fact that she was in her bedroom. Not the kids room at the Professor's house, but  _ her  _ bedroom, the one she shared with Lex at their trailer.

The only thing not blurry in the immediate area was the woman sitting across from her. She had wild red hair and an all-denim wardrobe. As Hannah sat up in her bed, the woman smiled.

"Nice to meet you," she offered her hand, which Hannah hesitantly shook. "Well, now. Trouble just seems to keep finding you, huh, Hannah?"

Hannah nodded. Looking at the woman's pretty red hair, she mumbled, "How'd I get here?"

"Oh, this isn't real," she admitted, gesturing to the room, which rippled with the movement. "I just thought you would want to see someplace familiar, rather than the Black and White. It's very empty and boring." She paused. "And… dangerous."

Hannah perked up. " _ In  _ the Black and White?" She whipped around, eyes scanning. "Webby and John?"

"Ah, I'm afraid they aren't here," she frowned, "though I'd love to see them. It's been a long time. But we're only  _ technically  _ in the Black and White. You were getting lost in your mindscape, so I brought you to mine. The memory of this room, however, is yours."

"...How?"

The woman laughed, polite but genuine. "I'm like you! Psychic, that is. Once I discovered my powers, I learned to control them, and use them as I please. So, I suppose you could call me a witch."

"Witch…" Hannah was very impressed. She barely understood her own powers, and definitely couldn't control them. This witch was very cool, indeed.

"I brought you here… well, to give you a break. It was pure luck that I ran into you, and the second I got too close…" the Witch frowned. "I saw so much heartbreak, even before Wiggly destroyed your world. You're so young, but you've lived a lifetime already…"

Hannah rubbed her eyes, trying not to cry. She knew. It still hurt to be reminded. 

The Witch patted her back, as gentle as her voice. "I can't help you much, but I thought you deserved a little rest. Somewhere safe, just until you're ready to wake up."

"What if I don't wanna wake up?" she asked.

The Witch smiled back at her. "Doesn't matter. I don't believe that's the case. You have people to return too, a chance to get everyone out of there. You don't strike me as a selfish kind of girl."

She was right, of course. Hannah couldn't leave Lex, or Ethan. Webby and John weren't here either; she was more alone in this moment than she had ever been in her entire life. 

"Will… Will I see you again?" Despite this being their first meeting, Hannah felt connected to the Witch. She was nice, gentle, and for once, knew what the hell was going on. It was refreshing.

"I think it's possible," the Witch admitted. "We have a common friend, after all. Duke Keane?"

"Duke!!" Hannah bounced at the name. It had been so long since she had seen him; thinking about him too much made her sad. If he wasn't with them, he was probably dead. "You know Duke?"

The Witch laughed. "Yes! We're good friends, and we work together."

Hannah quirked her head. "Social worker?"

"No," the Witch shook her head, bangs falling in her eyes, "Duke's the social worker. I'm a child psychologist. He calls me to help with kids from time to time. Sometimes its psychology… occasionally it's otherworldly. Either way, I'm his go-to expert."

"But… can't help here?"

The Witch's face dropped. "No, I'm sorry. You seem to be perfectly healthy mentally, minus some trauma from the woman who calls herself your mother… Ah, Duke has told me a bit about you, before, because he was thinking of having me help you before your mother shot it down."

"Sounds like her," Hannah grumbled.

"Anyway," the Witch continued, "as for otherworldly problems, well. While the causes of the apocalypses you're going through are definitely  _ from _ the Black and White, they're not  _ in  _ it. They're in the real world, and I'm from a different dimension. I'm sorry, Hannah."

Hannah nodded with a sigh, reaching up to adjust her bangs when her fingers brushed the hat she had forgotten she was wearing. The Witch watched the movement and smiled.

"Where'd you get that hat?" she asked. 

Hannah took it off and held it so they both could see the Nighthawks logo on the front. "Ethan. Given to him by a great warrior. Magic, imbued with-"

"-the power of Greyskull," the Witch said with her. Hannah looked up, and she smiled. "Ethan Green, right? I worked with him a long time ago. It's nice to know he kept it after all this time."

"You…  _ You're _ the great warrior?"

"I suppose so! I give the hats to the kids I work with," the Witch brushed her fingers over the logo, "and they _are_ a little magical, by the way. Protection wards, pretty basic magic, but they can work wonders."

She took the hat from Hannah and put it back on her. Briefly, their eyes met, but Hannah found that despite her calming presence, she still couldn't look the Witch in the eye.

She did, however, see her lips turn to a sad smile. "You're going to have to wake up soon, I'm sorry to say. There's someone waiting for you."

Hannah nodded sadly, and with a final look around the room, made her decision. "I'm ready."

The Witch nodded. "Good luck, Hannah."

\---

When Hannah opened her eyes next, she was much less comfortable, left with a strange metallic taste in her mouth. The Witch was gone, her room was gone. Instead, she was in a small room that smelled like cleaning supplies, empty except for two chairs, one of which she was tied too.

In the other chair sat John, leg bouncing anxiously, the most solid she had seen him since the McNamalien incident; not even talking about special interests had gotten him to the point where he was indistinguishable from a corporeal person. 

"John!" she was intensely relieved to see him, despite the circumstances. Before the word was even fully out of her mouth, he bolted up.

"Hannah," he sounded exhausted. He told her once he didn't need sleep anymore, but after today, she had some serious doubts. "Hannah, Bug, tell me you're alright."

"Tied up," she huffed, "Neck hurts. But… okay." She bit her lip, figuring it was far from the best time to bring up the "Bug" thing again, especially with how closed-off about it he was before.

Regardless, he seemed relieved, though didn't become any less solid. "That's good. Don't struggle, keep your energy. They're bound to untie you at some point, and that's when we'll make our escape. We'll have to find a quicker way back to Hidgen's house, though, walking across the whole island will take far too long-"

"Across the island?" Hannah questioned. "Where are we?"

"At the bridge," he had begun pacing around in front of Hannah, hands flapping like he was trying to shoo away all his anxieties. "At the bridge. At Nantucket bridge. Some little, little building right by the bridge."

John then smacked himself upside the head and stopped pacing. Hannah frowned. "Don't do that. Don't hurt yourself. We'll be okay. John? We'll be okay."

"I know," he let out a long breath. "We do this all the time. PEIP does this all the time. You'll be fine. I just-"

He was turned away from her, but she heard a struggled and irritated breath. Sitting back on the chair, he crossed his arms, leg bouncing again, and said nothing else.

"You okay?" she whispered.

John gestured vaguely at the lights with trembling hands and recrossed his arms. He cleared his throat repeatedly, then shook his head with a huff.

"It's okay," Hannah continued to whisper, realizing what was happening. "It's okay, it's okay."

She looked around for a lightswitch, but only found it by craning her head backwards over the chair. It was right by the door that she hadn't known was there until just then. It made sense for there to be a door, of course, how would anyone get in or out of the room. 

The bad part was that, since she was tied to the chair, Hannah could not get to the light switch.

With a sigh, she slumped back into the chair and lifted her head to look at John. "I'm sorry."

He had his eyes closed, but gave her a brief smile that said  _ "thanks for trying." _

They sat in silence for another moment, as they couldn't communicate for obvious reasons and Hannah didn't want to make things worse. She wondered what Webby was surely yelling at them. Though, it was possible that John could still hear Webby even though she couldn't, a sensation that was still very foriegn to her. In that case, she knew Webby was also being quiet. Whenever Hannah had overloads or shutdowns or when things were getting too much but weren't painfully dire, Webby would be quiet until it was time to be comforting. Surely she would do the same for John.

The quiet didn't last very long though. John had taken to messing with his hair, Hannah assumed it was some kind of calming stim, when he suddenly froze, eyes opening wide. Before Hannah could speak, he gestured for her to stay quiet.

John stood, walking around her chair, and she heard it. 

Footsteps. John's movements never made any sound, so they couldn't be his. They had to be coming from behind the door.

She held her breath, and the door swung open, colliding against the wall with a loud clang that made John and Hannah flinch, as well as the newcomer.

"Sorry," he muttered in a nasally voice. "Didn't mean to be that loud."

The man came around her chair and sat across from her. John paced around them both, glaring at the newcomer all the while.

He was dressed warmly, in an overcoat and a scarf, and he wore dark gloves. Under the coat, Hannah saw the remains of a suit, though no tie. He had round glasses and faced the papers he held in one hand while the other rubbed his temple.

Hannah trembled as she realized she recognized the man. "Gary Goldstein, attorney at law," she repeated the commercial she had seen countless times. She knew his face from much more recently, as well. Bad blood.

It wasn't his identity that made her afraid, though. It was that she had seen Gary in her dream. The other man was obviously an infected, but the shivering man with the glasses was the one sitting before her.

Distantly, through her fear-riddled mind, she remembered another vision about a man with glasses, lying in a bed. The same glasses, as a matter of fact. She was sure of it.

Hannah glared at those glasses. "Saw you. Black Friday," she clenched her fists as the memories of the day came back full force, along with a brand-new rage replacing her fear. "Killed Ethan."

He met her eyes and she looked away, dropping down to his scarf.

"A lot of people died on Black Friday," he stated, looking back down to the papers he held. "Heretics, mostly. Not trusting in the power of Wiggly."

Hannah tensed at the name. "He's  _ bad _ . Tricks you, kills you!"

"I'm sure this… Ethan, you speak of, deserved to die."

It took a moment for Hannah to realize she was screaming, because she couldn't hear it. She only felt it, saw it. She felt the sound vibrate through her body and across the room. She saw Gary and John cover their ears.

The lights flickered, then went out, and Hannah stopped screaming mostly out of surprise.

For a few moments, the room was silent, before out of the darkness came a wicked cackling. John, at the least, was still visible, and Hannah's eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. 

As the cackling subsided, however, a light source appeared; two small, green lights, floating in the darkness across from her, just inches apart.

With the light, her vision finally adjusted, and she found the light was coming from Gary's eyes. Glowing a sickly, evil green behind his glasses, the rest of his face came into view.

"Well. Glad to see it wasn't all for nothing!" he laughed. "I was worried for a while there, that maybe-"

He cut himself off abruptly, and Hannah faintly saw his hands pressing against his temples. The light dimmed when he shut his eyes, but did not go away completely.

"No, of course not," he spoke. "No, you know I trust you completely! ...I-I thought nothing of the sort, I promise you, sir!"

Hannah figured he wasn't talking to her, and the question of who he  _ was  _ loomed over her. Had his exposure to Wiggly followed by a month of isolation broken him? Or was there actually someone on the other end?

Given her own experiences, Hannah was inclined to believe the latter, and she once again found herself worried about who might be talking to him, especially since the communication seemed to hurt.

The conversation didn't last long, and soon Gary sat up with a cough. "The point is, kid, you have an incredible amount of psychic power. And thus, you will be perfect for our little project."

As he stood, he wobbled, holding a hand to his mouth. He was frozen for a few moments before finally settling, and walking around Hannah's chair to grab the back of it, dragging her (with quite a bit of effort) out of the room and into the hall.

"Sick?" she questioned him, not really expecting an answer.

"Nothing to worry about. I'll be fine." Despite what he said, his voice shook, and moments later he let go of Hannah's chair and threw up into a random room. She heard him mutter something about losing his lunch as he sputtered.

"Something-" John croaked, startling Hannah, "-Something's. Wrong."

Hannah hummed in agreement, and Gary came back, taking off his scarf. He tied it in a knot around Hannah's already-tied hands, and soon found herself being cut free.

Before the last of the rope was cut off, Gary raised the knife so she could see it. "Do not try anything. We're just walking outside."

She nodded, and the rope (save for that around her hands) was gone, she stood, and kept her close with his scarf and the knife. 

After a bit of walking, Hannah found her voice. "What's the project?"

Gary grinned at the opportunity to speak. "There are portals popping up all across the island, I'm sure you know, I know Hidgens and the others have been tracking them, just like we have. But! We've been tracking them longer. With the help of Wiggly, we know more than you all could hope too. And with our knowledge and Wiggly's guidance… we're building our own portal."

Hannah shivered. "A portal… to where?"

"To the Black, of course." Gary looked down to her. "Though, I suppose you know it as the Black and White. Wiggly says you have a very bratty spider on your shoulder."

"Webby is good. Lady in White," Hannah huffed. She wished she could hear Webby right then. Surely she could get them out of this. She believed in John, but she also knew how hard it was to function when overstimulated.

For now, the best move was to play along. "Why'd you need me? Powers?"

"Yes. Wiggly says you are the strongest psychic in history. Anyone with power like yours should be able to open the portal," he explained.

"No!" Hannah stopped walking, and Gary turned to look back at her. "No, won't open it. Can't open it."

"Oh, please. You absolutely can open it. You're the one who turned off the lights."

Hannah shook her head. "Can't. Can't touch the Black and White. Just hear, see it, sometimes."

Gary paused, glaring at her. "I knew it, I  _ told you _ it was too good to be true!" he shouted at no one in particular.

The shouting stopped with his sudden cry as he held his head in pain. The glow in his eyes was back, as was the muttering. Hannah couldn't make it all out, but it sounded like apologies and praise.

John whistled, and tried to touch the scarf, an act he failed to do. Nonetheless, Hannah got the message and tried to run. She only got a few feet before the scarf was pulled harshly, and she fell backwards onto the floor. 

Gary stood over her, eyes glowing and teeth bared. "Didn't I say not to try anything? Wiggly's right, you are a rotten little banana."

His wording made it all click together, and Hannah blurted, "You can hear Wiggly?"

He grinned, but it was less chaotic and significantly more tired. "Blessed with it. After Linda died, I was promoted to Prophet, with all the benefits." He then flinched violently, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Get up, we're almost there. And you  _ will  _ open the portal, or your day will get much worse."

"S'already terrible," Hannah grumbled, but found her way to her feet regardless.

Sure enough, just around the corner was a door leading outside. It was snowing, luckily only lightly, but the cold brought Hannah back to Christmas day, and McNamalien. As her breath turned white in the freezing air, she could only hope she wouldn't be forced to stay outside long.

They walked down the street and headed across the Nantucket bridge, passing other people who began to follow behind, shambling like zombies. Soon, it came into view.

The bomb crashed into the bridge, making it uncrossable, but never went off. Hannah thought it had sunk into the lake, but apparently not.

A large bomb with writing in letters she couldn't read was stuck in the rubble of the bridge, and as she got closer, it felt less and less cold. The air smelled like bleach, and the metallic taste from earlier grew stronger.

"Radiation poisoning," John's voice was a whisper. "Gary. Everyone. It's radiation." There was a pause, and Hannah looked to him beside her. 

"They're dying," he admitted.

In front of the bomb was a circle of metal and wires and debris. It looked like it might've been hooked up to the bomb at some point, or possible still was, the wires were impossible to follow. 

"We built our base here," Gary coughed, "because we thought the bomb could power it. Wiggly said it was possible, but it's from Russia, and some government or other must've deactivated it. We can't hack into it, so…" he looked at Hannah. "...time for plan B."

Hannah shook her head. "Can't open it. Can't touch."

"You can, kid. You just have to try," Gary offered, sounding deceptively kind.

Soon, other members of the cult joined in. They encouraged, threatened, chanted, begged for her to open the portal and lead them to their God. Hannah tried to cover her ears with her shoulders.

Gary looked tired, like he might blow away with the wind. It made sense that he was dying. "You have to do it, kid," he whispered. "Please."

"I can't!" Hannah shouted, frustrated.

Though Gary seemed resigned, the crowd was becoming angry. Before she knew it, someone had picked her up: a man in a long trench coat and a scarf. He held her in the circle where the portal was and shouted, "Open the  _ fucking,  _ portal, I'm in a hurry!"

Hannah felt panic rise in her chest and tears in her eyes and thought, distantly, about how the Witch could control her powers. Maybe she could too. She squeezed her eyes shut and thought hard about forcing him to let her go.

And with an echoing bang, she fell to the ground. There was something wet on her face, and she opened her eyes.

The man collapsed — a new hole in his head, bleeding profusely. Hannah had a feeling the wetness on her face wasn't tears.

"Did I do that?" she whispered, wide-eyed and afraid. This wasn't what she meant, she didn't want to kill him.

"Hannah!" she looked up to the crowd, who were now panicking. She spotted them fighting their way through the crowd, flinching at every bang.

The familiar black and red jacket of Curt, and the unmistakable slicked-back hair of Owen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im really excited for this chapter but also its. not my favorite I've done, writing-wise. so sorry.
> 
> also catch me putting curt and Owen in an important spot AGAIN because im a WHORE
> 
> oh also I know the man in a hurry died in the mall fire but fuck it he fit for the scene lmao


	21. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> -GUNS!  
> -a person gets shot  
> -twice  
> -also some. semi-graphic descriptions of. dead bodies.  
> -Hannah is pretty scarred at this point

The gunshot echoed in Curt's ears, briefly cutting off his senses before he came back to reality. The man holding Hannah had already collapsed, and heads were turning their way.

"Owen," he growled through gritted teeth, "this was supposed to be a  _ stealth  _ mission."

"What, you were just going to let her get hurt?" his partner ( _ mission _ partner, he reminded himself) snapped. "I'm honestly surprised. Normally you're the impulsive one."

"A lot has changed," Curt sighed, and double-checked his gun was loaded. Once they two were certain, they leapt from their hiding spot.

"Hannah!" Curt called, and he saw her look around for the source. He wasn't sure if she had seen him before her head drifted back towards the dead man's.

Even from this far back, he could see the blood on her face. He only hoped it didn't scar her too much; being kidnapped was bad enough as it is.

The spies fought their way through the crowd; way more people than expected, not infected, but still not right. The smell of radiation stung their lungs as bullets and fists flew.

By the time they got to Hannah, the two had their fair share of cuts and bruises, but luckily there didn't seem to be any guns in the area. The man with the glasses who had brought Hannah up to the bridge was nowhere to be found. Curt mentally cursed him for being a coward.

Looking at the young girl, who had tears mixing with the blood on her face and shivering from more than just the cold, Curt remembered the promise he had made to Lex.

They had managed to chase the infected out of the house, the threat of death temporarily stopping Curt from having a panic attack over causing the death of two teenage girls, but not without more loss.

First and foremost was Bill and the girls, the latter of which were largely Curt's fault. Henry refused to shoot, for some damn reason, so Curt fell back on his impulsive side and took the shot for him. He killed Alice, and as a result, Deb died too. He had promised them he would protect them, and ended up being the cause of their deaths. Once things were more settled, he definitely had a bit of a breakdown over that.

Aside from that, he came to find that there was another casualty; Oliver Green. The two had split up upon returning to the house, seemingly to cause as much destruction as possible.

Besides the deaths, Henry, Paul, Becky, Lex, and Ethan ended up injured. Luckily, most weren't too bad; among the worst were Henry, who nearly got infected, Becky, who broke a few fingers (luckily not on her dominant hand), and Lex, who fell down a flight of stairs and got a pretty serious concussion. 

It was only after the chaos died down that anyone noticed Hannah was missing. They began searching the house but Lex, still fighting to stay conscious, stopped them. 

"Hannah's taken," she had told them. "The guy with glasses took her."

"How do you know?" Henry questioned. "You were out cold when we found you."

"She was talkin' to someone before she passed out," Ethan argued. "Said to go with somebody, keep 'em safe, she'd find 'em."

"Soldier guy," Lex shook her head. "What the  _ fuck  _ is his name?"

Becky instructed Lex not to shake her head like that, lest she make her concussion worse, and Curt remembered what Hannah had confided in him when they first met; she heard voices. One was a spider, the other a General.

"Where did he tell you she was going?" Curt had kneeled in front of Lex to ask.

"Wasn't sure. Thought the bridge, maybe? Guy with the glasses, from TV, he had a fuckin'... motorcycle, he said." Lex's words were slurred and she was clearly dazed, but Curt didn't have the heart to disbelieve her.

He hadn't told anyone, and didn't plan too any time soon, but he caught glimpses, sometimes. Of a man with the Foster girls. Sometimes he even looked to be talking with them, or otherwise interacting.

If this was the General that Hannah spoke of, then Curt believed what he said was true. 

Curt had taken Lex's hand and met her bleary eyes. "I'm going to get Hannah back. I promise. I won't return until I've got her, okay?"

Lex tried to stand. "'m coming with you."

Ethan gently tugged her back into her seat. "Babe, you're heads all fucked up, you can't cross the island like this."

The teen sobbed. "I have too! I have to protect her, it's my job! Our stupid fucking mother won't do it, so I have too! I have to save her, please…"

Ethan held her close as she continued to plead, a look of heartbreak on his face. Him and Curt had made eye contact and the boy gave a nod of approval on behalf of Lex.

Curt stood, ready to go right then and there, to save the kid and make up from his mistake earlier, when he was stopped.

"Your hand is still broken, Curt," Owen pointed out.

"Sprained," he had corrected, turning back to face his fellow spy. "I can still use it."

"You're not supposed too."

"When have I ever been one to follow the rules?"

"Curt," Owen sighed, "you haven't been here that long. You don't know the terrain, the roads, all you know is she  _ might  _ be at a bridge. Going into this single-handedly, quite literally, is going to get the both of you killed."

Curt crossed his arms, and without hesitation, said, "Then come with me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"C'mon, Owen," Curt smirked, attempting to hide his real feelings on the matter. "We're the best in the business. We know how to work together. If anybody can do it, we can."

" _ I  _ haven't been here that long either, you know."

"That's not what matters. What matters is if something goes wrong, I know you've got my back. And I've got yours." Curt offered his hand. "Come with me?"

Owen had looked at the offered hand for a long moment, worry in his brow. With a sigh, he gripped Curt's arm just like he always had. "Alright. No time to waste, then."

"I'd already be halfway there if you hadn't stopped me."

"Oh, please, love. You'd be lost without me."

Paul threw them a set of keys and explained to the group that the scouting mission, despite everything, had been a success and they had a decently-gassed car. It took a bit for the two to figure out how it worked, modern technology was unnecessarily complicated sometimes, but it was worth it, as the trip was made much faster, and much, much warmer.

They had parked a few blocks away from the bridge in a nearby neighborhood to avoid suspicion, and followed a crowd of people to a bridge with a bomb lodged in it. On the side, in Russian, was  _ "DEAR WIGGLY, LOVE MOSCOW." _

The idea of a nuclear war with Russia was no longer scary to Curt, it was a threat he had faced for his entire career as a spy. It was the message,  _ "DEAR WIGGLY," _ that struck fear in him.

That and the idea of failing again. Owen had cut Hannah free, but she still wasn't responding and they were out of time. Curt pocketed his gun and lifted her up; she was cold, and much lighter than a thirteen-year-old should be.

"Curt, your wrist," Owen fretted.

To his credit, the strain of carrying even someone so light did make his wrist hurt like it was on fire, but he shook off Owen's worries. "I'm better off carrying her then shooting with a shitty hand."

That they seemed to agree on, and with Owen as their cover, the trio ran.

\---

Hannah had never seen a dead body this close before. There were the infected, but they didn't behave like dead bodies. They didn't stay dead, and they didn't seem to rot. 

It felt like it had been ages since she had seen red blood. Now it was the only thing she could focus on. The weight of it on her face, the stream of it coming from the man in a hurry's head, the growing pool of it on the ground.

A pair of slightly see-through hands covered her eyes. John. He reminded her of the Witch. Grounding, calm, warm. Not really there.

The blood had dried in the cold winds, but her face was wet. Crying. Why did she always cry? Why was she crying over a man who would've killed her? Or was she crying over John, a ghost she barely knew?

There was a hand on her shoulder. She didn't bother shaking it off. There were voices all around, her name, pleas to move, the flick of a pocketknife and the feeling of freedom for her wrists. Eventually she was picked up by strong arms covered in worn leather, and a bandaged wrist. She held onto his neck and closed her eyes.

"Blood," she whispered without realizing. "Red, blue, black. Ruins. Smile. Glasses. Eyes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow-"

She felt a pinch on her leg and froze, then blinked hard. She saw the sky, and Curt's face. 

"C'mon, kid," he managed a charismatic smile despite the situation, "don't get lost, okay? We need you here."

Her vision blurred, but this time it came with the sensation of tears. She bit her lip and turned her face into Curt's chest, trying not to cry. It was time to be strong, not scared. She'd been through worse. McNamalien. Her mother. Linda. Getting kidnapped and having a man's blood (and maybe more) spatter on her face was just… another one on the pile.

_ "Fear not bad,"  _ Webby told her, voice calm and confident.  _ "Fear makes human, Hannah. Surviving makes strong. Hannah  _ **_very_ ** _ strong!" _

"Do you think you're weak for being afraid, Hannah?" John's voice was a similar tone, with an added hint of surprise. "Webby's right. It's okay to be scared; you just can't let it hinder you. Use it to power you forward, instead."

Hannah looked up trying to see where John was. She spotted him, more solid than ghost, running beside Curt. They made eye contact, and neither looked away.

"Are you ever scared?" she whispered.

Curt looked down at her, briefly, but didn't seem to have heard her. If he did, he seemed to have known she wasn't talking to him. John, meanwhile, gave her a snow-melting smile.

"Always."

Soon after, the spies came to a stop, hiding in the ruins of a mostly-destroyed shed. Hannah was set down and sat between the two of them. 

"Why'd we stop?" Curt asked, looked over the ruined wall toward the direction they had come from. "We're near the car, aren't we?"

"I don't want them following us there," Owen whispered, doing the same. "It was hard enough to drive here, I'd rather not have to hurry back surrounded by a mob."

After a bit of silence, the two crouched down slightly, hiding their heads and communicating through looks. Hannah tried to take a look herself, but barely got a glimpse before she was pulled down by the spies, who gave her a shared look of  _ "Don't." _

Anxiety building, Hannah quietly crawled to the slightly-more sheltered part of the building, to at least get out of the snow. She felt a cold breeze by her hand and found a hole, just big enough to peek through. Steeling herself for the worst, she dared to look.

At first, Hannah didn't see anything odd; just John, walking towards them. She found it odd that he was so far away from her without getting hurt, and when had he put his hair up?

The sight of the ponytail struck fear in her heart and she jumped back, instinctually reaching for her neck, her other hand covering her mouth to stay quiet.

_ McNamalien. _ Of course he came back, the infected always came back. Of course he'd be looking for her, she got away last time. Cultists she could deal with, they were people, but the infected were just as terrifying as the first time she had seen one.

She snuck back over to the spies and whispered, "Infected, McNamalien, gotta go, c'mon!" She tried to tug on Curt's sleeve, but neither budged.

"We can handle one infected," Owen reassured.

"Tough. They come back. Let's go!"

"I think it's better to retreat," Curt agreed, "before more show up."

Owen frowned, hesitant. "If they follow us to the car-"

"They won't if we leave now," Curt assured.

He thought for a moment, biting his lip, before seceding with a nod. "Okay. Hannah, can you walk yourself?"

She nodded, adjusting the Warriors cap, which had thankfully managed to stay on during the fiasco of the day. The three stood, but quickly hit the deck at the sound of gunshots, the bullets imbedding themselves in the rotting wood of a remaining wall.

Heart pounding in her chest, Hannah slinked back to the hole she had peered through. There was more than just McNamalien; there were no less than six people now, all dressed in the same military uniform as John, though most had helmets as well. Several had their guns raised, no doubt having fired them moments prior.

She backed away from the hole, John becoming more visible by the second as he too learned what was going on.

"Those are PEIP agents," he whispered. "Bradley, Julie, Robert, Lavender-" he cut himself off with an unrestrained gasp. He didn't seem so much afraid as he did heartbroken. "...Corey. Oh, Corey, Bug…"

His lamenting of the particular soldier was cut off by none other than his doppelganger calling out. "We understand you are from a different time, so perhaps you don't yet know how things work here. For that, we'll give you some lenience. Hand over the Prophet, and you two will be spared."

Curt mimed for Hannah to cover her ears, and she did, but could still hear him clearly shout, "Eat shit!!"

There was synchronous laughter at his comment, and John looked like he might be sick.

"Then," the six infected agents all spoke as one, "you will die."

The gunfire resumed, some breaking through the walls of the shed, others bouncing off. Hannah covered her ears tighter at the deafening sound,

When she managed to force her eyes open, however, afraid to see the spies lying dead on the ground, she instead found something mesmerising.

Curt and Owen communicated without speaking. The second the gunshots let up even slightly, they would take turns popping up from behind the wall to take their own shots. Judging from the sounds dying down and the fact that even John had looked away, she guessed they were hitting some targets.

Finally came a moment where Curt popped up and stayed up. It was quiet. He nodded at Owen, who kneeled rather than stood, and Hannah creeped closer, too afraid to ask aloud if it was safe.

Just as Hannah began to stand herself, it started again.

There was the sound of a gunshot, of Curt yelling to move, of Owen being shoved to the ground.

And then there was the red of Curt's blood, spilling from a bullet in his side. Another shot, and it came from his neck.

Curt hit the ground, though more shots followed and continued to rain down on the trio, and Owen was at his side immediately. Both held their hands to the wounds, and Curt pulled one hand from his side to gage how bad it was.

Owen muttered, "Don't look, love, don't look-" but wasn't heeded. Curt saw the blood from the bullet hole, the blood on his hands, and turned to the side, throwing up.

Owen instructs Curt, quietly and calmly, to keep pressure and not look at the blood anymore. He gives Hannah a passing glance and she cannot force herself to look anywhere near his face. The expression he had was pure rage and bloodlust.

He collected Curt's gun, as well as his own, checked how many bullets each had left, and stood.

Hannah watched in horror and amazement as he hit every target, dead-on. In the chest, in the neck, in the head. Blue blood littered the battlefield and Owen didn't stop until both weapons were completely out. Even then, he pulled the trigger a few more times.

Once the bloodbath was over, Owen pocketed the guns and returned to Curt's side.

"Now why the  _ fuck _ ," his voice shook, "did you think it was okay to do that?  **_Hm?_ ** "

Curt, dazed and losing blood, found it in him to laugh. "I can't lose you again, Owe. I'm not gonna be the reason you die a third time."

Owen was understandably confused, but his training seemed to take over, and he managed to get Curt to stand and half-carried him. Finally, he looked at Hannah.

"Don't doddle. The car's not far."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Fucking Shit Owen, Curt Got Shot
> 
> also hey PEIP agents! Corey we'll be hearing more about soon, but the others! I'm already attached too!  
> thank you to my bf eggs for naming Bradley and Robert (and Corey!) and to crei (from the SAF server!) for naming Lavender and Julie!


	22. Dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> -surgery  
> -blood!  
> -vague description of needles

There were no other interruptions as the trio made their way through the snow to the car, the sun beginning to set. Curt was laid in the backseat, and Owen instructed Hannah to hold down on the spot he got shot. Curt, only half-awake, held his neck. Owen told her it hadn't hit anything, just broke the skin, but it still bled a lot.

He drove like a madman, partially out of desperation and partially not being used to the technology, and Hannah tried not to jostle Curt too much. He'd be okay. She was helping. He saved her, now she'll save him. It's happened a couple times now — it's become a game.

Webby was chatting quietly, telling Hannah she was doing well and that things would be okay. John, visible but see-through, sat in the front seat, silent. When she looked over her shoulder at him, caught glimpses of him flapping his hands around in front of him, much more vigorously than back in the medical center. 

She bit her lip and turned back, focusing on helping Curt; she could help John later.

_ "Blood, blood, blood,"  _ Webby chanted.  _ "Taken, given, lost. ...He'll change." _

"Who?" Hannah whispered, barely even able to hear herself.

_ "Him. Spy. Curt. Same today. Different tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow…" _

Hannah bit her lip, unsure of what that meant. "...Alive?"

Webby didn't answer immediately.  _ "Alive." _

Hannah decided that was a good enough answer for now and shifted her focus back to helping Curt.

She wasn't sure how long it took to drive home, but it felt infinitely longer thanks to the total silence in the car. Not another word from John or Webby, nothing from Owen, and only pained breathing from Curt.

When they arrived back at the Professor's house, Owen was out of the car before the engine had died down. She did as he said to help get Curt out of the back, and once he was, Hannah was sent ahead to get the door open and get the medical center prepared.

She tried the door; locked, as usual. Knocking loudly resulted in Emma's voice coming through. "Who is it?"

"Curt's hurt!!" Hannah ignored the question, rattling the doorknob. "Curt's hurt, tell Becky, let us in!!!"

Emma paused. "Uh. Let me get the Professor?"

"No time! Please!" Hannah once again tried the doorknob, looking over her shoulder as Owen approached with a seemingly-unconscious Curt.

"Who is it?" he asked, quiet.

"Emma," Hannah told him, stepping back and pulling on her braids.

Owen moved a bit closer and knocked on the door. "Emma? Still there?"

She took a moment to respond. "Yeah…?"

"Emma, I promise you we aren't infected. If you don't open this door  _ right  _ _ fucking  _ _ now _ , Curt is most likely going to die. And if that happens, I  _ personally  _ will kill you. Open the door."

Despite the threat, the trio was met with more hesitation and silence. When the door finally opened, they were met with the face of the Professor, Emma hovering behind him. Owen shoved past with Curt, and Hannah followed, noticing how the Professor kept a close eye on the wounded spy.

They rushed to the medical center, and luckily Becky was already there, checking on some other injuries sustained during the attack.

With a loud, "MOVE!" from Owen and Tom quickly pulling Tim aside, Curt was laid on the cot and soon began to cough. Owen wiped the blood from his hands onto his jacket and covered Curt's eyes. 

"Don't look, love. We don't need you throwing up again, okay?" his voice was much softer than it had been in a while.

Curt managed a laugh between breaths. "Just thinkin' makes me sick, darlin'..."

Becky was shooing people out of the room as she dashed around, collecting what she would need and asking Owen frantic questions.

"How many injuries?"

"Two," Owen continued to hold his other hand over the shot in Curt's side.

"Are the bullets still there?"

"One is, the other didn't enter, just grazed."

"How long has he been bleeding?"

"We applied pressure the whole way here. I'd say about ten minutes." Owen paused, glaring at the blood soaking Curt's shirt. "He's lost a lot. He'll need a transfusion, I'm certain."

"What's his blood type?"

"O Negative."

Becky went over to a metal chest and opened it, looking through the red bags inside. Hannah, the last person in the roo besides Owen, felt a growing sense of dread.

"Henry!" she called, having chased him out of the room. He poked his head back in, an uninterested look on his face. "Where's the rest of the blood?"

He raised an eyebrow. "That  _ is _ all the blood."

Becky gaped. "Henry… this is all B Negative. Do you not have  _ any  _ other blood types?!"

"Why would I?" he challenged. "That's my blood type. I never planned on having twenty or so other people in my house during the apocalypse! Why would I keep blood other than my own?"

While his reasons made sense, the implications were blood-curdling. Owen was frozen, that look of rage from earlier back on his face, now directed at the Professor. Becky, meanwhile, only allowed herself a moment of horror before she returned to putting everything together.

"We'll do what we can," she explained. "Owen, help me get his jacket and shirt off, c'mon!"

While they worked together, Hannah snuck out of the room, trying not to cry. "Webby said alive," she whispered. "How?"

She was met with a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, it was Ethan, who pulled her into a hug. "We've been worried sick, Banana," he mumbled. "Oliver… is gone. He almost got Lex, but she's okay, just a concussion. She's restin' right now, or else she'd be here to hug you, too." He rubbed her shoulders and tried to give her a smile. "Everything's gonna be okay, now. Curt's gonna be fine, okay?"

Hannah shook her head. "No blood. Wrong blood."

Ethan frowned. "Uh. Well, they can get it from someone else! Hell, I'll do it if I gotta, what's the type?"

Hannah tugged on her braids. "Becky said…. B Negative?"

Ethan blinked. "Fuckin' perfect! I've got that! C'mon, see? I told you it'd be fine!"

The two joined hands and walked back into the room, and no sooner than the door had opened, Ethan proudly stated, "I can give blood! Hannah said you need B Negative, and I've been to the hospital enough to know that's what I've got!"

"We  _ have  _ that," Owen snapped, "Now get out, we have work to do."

"Sorry, Ethan," Becky was kinder. "What we need is O Negative."

Ethan had deflated a bit at Owen's frustration, but quickly bounced back, and without missing a beat, said, "Oh, Hannah's got that."

Everyone in the room looked to Ethan, which he took as a sign to continue. "Yeah, uh, her mom's a bitch, never took her to a doctor, so me and Lex saved up some money to get her vaccinated, and there was some blood test done too? To make sure she wasn't allergic or nothin', and I remember, they said she was a fuckin' uhhh-"

"Universal donor," Becky cut him off. "This is perfect, Hannah, come here, roll up your sleeve." She started grabbing needles and tubes and bags from drawers, and Hannah fidgeted.

Ethan held her hand. "Hey," he kneeled to her height and whispered. "Sorry, I shouldnt've said that. If you don't wanna do this, you don't have too. Maybe someone else can."

_ "Die,"  _ Webby chirped ominously.  _ "Must be Hannah. Change, but alive." _

"It's not fair to force her to do that," John argued. "She should not be forced to have his life riding on her acceptance. Hannah, this is a decision you must make for yourself."

She bit her lip, and Ethan reached to rub his thumb against it. "You gotta stop doing that, kid, or your gonna tear it open again," he warned, voice warm. "I'm sorry, but you've gotta decide now. What are you gonna do?"

With a deep breath, Hannah started to roll up her sleeve. "Saved me. I'll save him."

Ethan nodded, and helped her to a chair that Becky had placed near the cot. Soon, the needle was in the vein and Hannah held Ethan's hand to focus on something other than the sensation.

"Now, Hannah," Becky caught her attention, "We're going to get the bullet out of Curt and sew him up. I need you to not move, but you don't have to look. In fact, you shouldn't, okay?"

Hannah nodded, and the nurse went to work. It wasn't her area of expertise, but Owen stayed to help, and with his basic knowledge of emergency medical aid, they were managing.

Ethan did his best to distract Hannah from the blood leaving her body, and keep her awake, as he was worried she would pass out. Owen was right — despite their best efforts, Curt had lost a  _ lot  _ of blood.

After a couple hours, the hard part was finished. The bullet was out of Curt's side, both the wounds had been sewn and patched up. Some trouble arose when Becky noticed that his new wound had opened up an old one that, from the looks of it, had never been properly taken care of. 

Once the surgery was done, Hannah stayed more or less tethered to Curt for a bit longer, until he started to look a bit less pale.

Afterwards, however, Becky had Ethan help her set up a second cot, and got Hannah to lie down on it. 

"You sent a lot over to him," Becky explained. "More than I really should've let you. I want to keep you under observation for a bit, make sure you don't pass out or anything. So just rest and let your body make some more blood!"

She tried to deliver that final line cheerfully, but in all honesty it just sounded creepy. Nonetheless, Hannah listened, and laid quietly in the bed. The sun had set by the time they had gotten back — by now it was past dinner.

Her stomach growled. Hopefully someone would have the mind to bring her something.

She had half a mind to ask Owen, who had stayed in the room and taken her chair, refusing to leave Curt's side. He had barely said a word since his outburst to Ethan, and never took his eyes off his fellow spy.

Becky was exhausted, cleaning up before probably going to eat herself, and Ethan had gone to check up on Lex. Hannah felt oddly disconnected, and remembered what Webby had said in the car.  _ Blood, blood, blood. Taken, given, lost. He'll change.  _

Hannah's blood was taken, and given. Curt's was lost. She didn't know how he'd change, but she feared the worst. Webby said he'd be alive, but… the Infected weren't exactly dead, were they? Was it possible that Curt had gotten infected and they hadn't noticed?

After Webby gave no response, she had no choice but to simply wait and see.

The night flew past surprisingly quickly. Becky brought back food for Hannah and Owen, and Ethan brought Lex to come hang out quietly for a bit before saying goodnight. Becky explained she'd come by to check on Curt and Hannah every few hours. Owen still refused to leave, but was clearly exhausted as well and eventually fell asleep in the chair, hand clasping Curt's.

Now, however, it was 2am and Becky had already been by twice since everyone said goodnight, and Hannah couldn't sleep. The adrenaline from the day hadn't worn off yet, and she had too many thoughts bouncing around her head, keeping her from drifting off. 

After flopping around and adjusting her position for the millionth time, John piped up. "Something bothering you?"

Hannah sat up, fiddling with her sleeves. Her arm still ached from the transfer. "Can't sleep."

"Can't blame you. You've been through a lot today."

She shrugged. "Been through a lot every day."

She watched as he slowly faded into existence, sitting cross-legged at the end of the cot, a troubled look on his face. "I'm sorry I can't do more to help you," he admitted. "As a matter of fact, I've led you  _ into  _ more trouble than I've gotten you out of. For that, and all the other trouble I've caused, I apologize."

She reached to take his hand, and then recoiled, remembering she would just phase through. "It's okay, John, it's okay. Helped a lot, I promise."

It was John's turn to shrug as he tapped his fingers against his knees. "I'll find you a way out of this. You, your sister, Ethan… all of them. You all aren't trained for this kind of thing, and you're good people. You don't deserve to be going through this, especially not so young."

" _ You're  _ going through this!" she pointed out. "Overload, at the bridge! And… Bug, again." John tensed, and Hannah frowned. "John… who's Bug?"

He didn't answer right away, but his emotions betrayed him as he became more solid. Finally, he sighed. "Bug is a nickname. For… my son."

She bounced, surprised. "Son? You have a son?"

"Yes," he nodded, "He would've turned twenty-one at the end of December. His name is Corey, but we've always called him Bug. It was just a little nickname that never went away. I believe Ed is the one who came up with it first…"

"Ed?"

A smile found its way to John's face. "My husband."

"Husband?!" Hannah gaped. "Never told me!"

"I didn't know I was required to share," he deadpanned for a moment, then smirked, and she giggled.

"Truthfully, I admit I was worried about what you'd think," the smirk fell as he explained. "For a while, you and I didn't get along well, and after I slipped and called you Bug, I didn't want to make things… strange. Especially since I can't exactly leave."

Hannah shook her head. "Not strange. Nice, it's nice." She gave him a smile, looking at his face, mostly obscured by his hair. "Bug is for Corey, though. You can call me Banana."

John turned his head, and the two met eyes. All was quiet, but neither looked away, and finally, John let out a breathy laugh.

"Banana it is, then."

Hannah put the Warriors cap on her lap and began untying her braids, as she had forgotten too in all the chaos. As she undid them, she asked him, "Ed? What's he like?"

John looked off to the far wall, his hair falling out of his face as a nostalgic expression formed. "Ed's wonderful. He's a baker, and I've never come across a better apple pie than his. He knows… more about PEIP than he should, but I'm allowed a bit of lenience. I'm the one in charge, after all."

"But, you're here," she frowned. "Who's in charge now?"

At that, John frowned, too. "I'm not sure. There isn't another general, and PEIP is relatively small as it is. I wouldn't be surprised if Schaeffer's taken the lead. She's a good leader, trustworthy, but this… would be a lot to take on so suddenly."

"Schaeffer?"

"Colonel Jolene Schaeffer. A good friend and a good soldier, I've known her for a long time. Too long, perhaps." He thought for a moment. "She was there for the portal opening, so that's at least thirteen years…"

Hannah bit her lip. "Should you be telling me this?"

"Not at all," he responded immediately with a shake of his head. "But who will know? I can't get back. The only people who can see or hear me are you and Lex, and Webby, I suppose. I could really say whatever I want, and quite frankly, I love talking about PEIP."

"Special interest?"

"Yes, actually."

For a while, she let him talk about PEIP as he got progressively more visible. Ranging from things he clearly had never told anyone, such as other invasions from the Black and White, to simple stories about his friends and soldiers daily lives. Hearing such passion from someone who tries so hard to be stoic was comforting.

She learned a bit from the rambling, namely that Corey was a recent addition to PEIP's ranks, and that John's father and sister also used to work in PEIP.

"Used too?" she had interrupted, curiosity winning over her politeness. 

John stopped in his tracks, stumbling over his words for a moment as his tongue caught up with his brain. "Ah, used too, yes."

"What happened?"

He paused. Then took a breath. "My father… passed, on a mission. Afterwards, Lo didn't want to be involved with PEIP anymore. She moved back to Hatchetfield, as a matter of fact."

John looked around the room. "I never wanted to come back to this town. It doesn't like people to leave. So I wasn't in much contact with her for a long time. She came to my wedding, and we write letters from time to time." He paused, sadness shining in his eyes. "I miss her quite a bit, to be honest."

"Sister sounds nice," Hannah rubbed her eyes. "Sisters are good. Sorry about dad."

"It's alright," John sighed. "It happened a long time ago. I'm… moving on. New name, new life… it's in the little things."

"New name?"

"McNamara," he explained. "It's Ed's name, not mine. I started using it before we were even married, actually."

She nodded. "Your family sounds nice."

"They are. I'm lucky to have had them."

"Still have them," Hannah insisted. "Not  _ here _ , but still have them. Family stays with you."

He looked at her for a long moment, and smiled. "I suppose you're right, Banana. Thank you."

She nodded, wiggling under the covers more. He chuckled, "Tired?"

Hannah nodded, holding the Warriors cap close to her heart. "Thank you. For talking."

"You're welcome. Thank you for listening, and letting me talk." 

As Hannah finally closed her eyes and drifted off into sleep, John grabbed the corner of the blanket and pulled it up higher, tucking her in.

"Goodnight, Banana."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID YOU REALLY THINK I WAS GONNA KILL THE MAN IM HYPERFIXATING ON, OF COURSE NOT
> 
> also dadnamara ;^; I love them. I love them I love them I love them
> 
> thank you to my boyfriend Eggs for naming Corey and Ed. I will call him out by saying that Ed is literally just a self-insert. But who can blame him.
> 
> OH ALSO THE JOKE ABOUT COREY'S NICKNAME BEING BUG COMES FROM THE HEADCANON THAT JOEY'S PEIP AGENT IN TGWDLM IS JOHN'S SON (which is canon in this!) ((because Joey.... Bug.... get it))


	23. Premonition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw:  
> -sensory overload  
> -mentions of past self-harm
> 
> thats about it! have fun :>

Hannah awoke to more people than she recalled being there last. Someone had tucked her in the night before; she somewhat recalled it happening, but wasn't sure who had done it. 

Obviously, it didn't matter in the moment. The group wasn't here for her — rather, everyone was surrounding Curt. The room was nearly silent, save for a quiet, continuous muttering, and Hannah's heart sank, preparing for the worst as she crept out of bed.

Curt was sitting up on the cot, hands pressed tight over his ears, eyes wide open. Beside him, a hand hovering over his shoulder, was Owen, and on his other side was Becky and Tom. By the door stood Oliver and Ethan, with Tim sitting near them. 

Hannah stood beside Owen, intending to ask what was going on, but she was met with a hand. He held a finger to his mouth and shook his head, and she covered her mouth with both hands.

Curt seemed to curl in on himself more, and everyone froze. With the quiet, it quickly became clear that the muttering was coming from none other than Curt himself. As she listened to what he was saying, Hannah froze too.

"It's too much, there's too much, just shut up, you stupid fucking monsters, shut up! I don't want to hear any of it, I don't want to know your plans, I don't want to be here, let me out, let me out, let me out-"

 _"Changed,"_ Webby sighed, _"Changed. Troubled. Connected. Not meant to be."_

"Changed," Curt mumbled, "Changed, troubled, connected, I don't fucking care, let me go, I don't want to be stuck in this fucking web. Please."

"He can hear," Hannah breathed. "He changed."

"You don't react like this," John whispered, unnecessarily, "so why is he?"

 _"Not meant to,"_ Webby repeated. _"New connection. Hard at first. Insanity."_

"No," Hannah stated, leading to the corporeal adults looking at her. She reached out and grabbed Curt's arm, causing the man to violently flinch.

"No!" he shouted. "No, don't fucking touch me, I don't want part in your fucking schemes, let me go!"

Hannah did as he asked, biting her lip. Before she could try again, Tom picked her up, whispering, "You gotta leave him be, kid. He's not doin' well."

Hannah struggled against Tom as he tried to carry her to Ethan. "I can help!" she insisted, "He hears! He hears what I hear!"

 _"SHUT! UP!"_ Curt screamed, and suddenly Tom dropped Hannah.

Looking around, everyone was suddenly covering their ears, expressions of pain etched on their faces, some having even crumpled to the ground. Hannah felt a faint buzzing in her head, and heard a quiet high-pitched sound, but nothing that hurt her or would cause her to react similarly; just kind of annoying.

Over the buzzing, Hannah heard Curt breathing heavily between crazed ramblings. "Tomorrow will come, tomorrow won't come, the apotheosis is here, he's falling, I'm falling, please just stop, it's too much, please-"

Hannah hopped up and sat cross-legged on the cot, facing Curt. She reached out and offered her hands.

"Do you see what I see?" she asked.

Curt blinked, and looked up at her. She did her best to keep eye contact, but the intensity of his eyes scared her. "See? I just… there's flashes. I don't, I can't, I don't see much. But hear?" he conjured a deranged laugh. "I can hear _everything_."

When Hannah didn't respond immediately, he looked down at her hands. "Is this what you hear all the time?"

Hannah gave a small smile and nodded. "You learn to ignore it. Focus on the important parts. See the future, sometimes." She bit her lip. "The Witch can control it. I can't. But I can teach you to make it quiet."

She flexed her fingers, reminding him that he can take them. "Black and White is big, scary. Lots of bad things," she admitted. "But, good things too. Webby is good. John is good. Focus on good."

Slowly, Curt took his hands off his ears, and clasped Hannah's hands. She took a deep breath in, and he mirrored her. Together, they breathed in sync.

"Sometimes it's still too much," Hannah told him, "but being calm helps. Be present. Stay on Earth."

Curt nodded, letting his eyes close. "I just- I don't get- Why is this happening?"

"Blood, blood, blood," she repeated.

Curt's eyes snapped open and he said with her, "Taken, given, lost."

"Changed," Hannah mumbled, "because of me. Gave blood… gave powers."

Curt breathed out a laugh, tightening his grip on her hands. "I think I had some. Sometimes… Sometimes I saw things. Or heard things. I thought I was crazy. But it was never like this…"

"Can't stop it. Just… don't listen."

"Easier said than done, kiddo."

"When it's too much, do something else. Talk. Play. Distract." She sighed. "Sometimes, can't stop it. But lots of it, just… washes over you. Don't fight it. Don't focus."

Curt laughed, seeming a tad bit calmer. "Now _that_ is something I can do. I tell ya, I'm an _expert_ at not focusing."

Hannah laughs a bit too, feeling the buzz in her head fade. "Stim helps. Helps me, at least."

"Stim?"

"Like this," Hannah slipped her hands out of Curts and flapped them around. He watched for a moment before doing so himself. She caught his left hand, the hurt one, and guided it to his lap. "Don't hurt more."

He continued to wiggle his right hand, and then arm. "This is nice, actually."

"Yeah! Can do lots of things to stim," she pulled on her hair, only partially as an example. Remembering something she learned in school, she bounced and asked for his arm.

He didn't have a jacket or shirt on, leaving his chest and arms bare. He had more scars than she would've expected. When she held his arm, she saw some that were most certainly self-inflicted.

Pressing down on parts of his forearm, moving up to his elbow, she chimed, "Buttons, buttons, buttons."

Before long, there was a smile on his face, and she let him do buttons on her arm as well. Hannah had barely heard it in the first place, but the high-pitched noise was long gone.

Owen and the others uncovered their ears, breathing sighs of relief. Curt looks around, surprised at their reactions. "What happened to you guys? Wasn't _I_ the one who got shot?"

"Don't joke about that," Owen grumbled, rubbing his temples. "Not when my ears feel like they're about to explode."

"Ringing," Hannah told him. "There was a ringing. Heard it quietly, but…" she looked at the recovering group, "...might've heard it loud."

"How did you not hear it?" Becky asked, genuinely confused. "I'm surprised no one's ears are bleeding."

 _"Changed,"_ Webby chimed again. _"Powers. Protection. Fear."_

She heard a snapping sound, and John piped up. "Like when you turned the lights off at the bridge. It was your powers, reacting to outside stimulus as a defense mechanism. Curt was overwhelmed, so his new powers shut everyone down to protect him."

_"Yes, yes! Good John!"_

"And I imagine it didn't affect Hannah because she has similar powers?"

_"Yes!!!!"_

As happy Hannah was that her two guardians were getting along, she had to interrupt to relay the information to Becky and the others. They were all very surprised such a thing was possible.

"Why have you never done that before?" Tim asked before he could be shushed by his dad.

Hannah tried to hide in her hair. "Can't control it. Just happens sometimes."

Curt reached over and patted her on the head. "I believe in you, kid. You taught me something today."

They exchanged smiles, and then Curt winced, bringing a hand to his head. A moment later, he let out a breath and asked, "What the fuck is a Workin' Boys? I- Sorry, Hannah, Tim."

Becky shrugged, moving her hair out of her face. "I think I've heard Henry talk about something like that before. You could ask him?"

Curt shook his head. "No… I think we gotta keep an eye on him. I… I _saw_ it, this time. Something bad involving whatever that is."

"Future?" Hannah asked, and Curt nodded, wincing again.

"Good man, who? Emergency… radio…" he flopped back onto the bed. "This sh… stuff, is hard to keep up with."

"Good man," John asked, a ghost beside Hannah, "or _Goodman?"_

Before Hannah could repeat the question, Curt responded. "Goodman. One word, like a name."

"Like the President?" Tom offered.

"I have no idea who that is."

"President on the radio, said weekly," Hannah offered. "But… Tuesdays. Yesterday."

Curt shrugged. "I just.. I heard someone say like, emergency broadcast, Goodman, and a few other things… I think I heard your name, Hannah," he looked at her, serious. "I think you oughta find that radio."

She hesitated and he made a "go on" motion with his hand and Becky checked to make sure his psychic overload hadn't reopened any stitches.

Fearing the worst, Hannah ran to the living room, where they had been keeping the radio. She was in bed when the President's weekly broadcast had gone off, and had yet to hear what he had said in it, or if there had been one at all.

Turning it on, there was nothing but static. Hannah sat on the couch, watching it, waiting for anything to happen. After several minutes of only static, she sighed. Curt's vision was of the future — that didn't mean it was of the immediate future. 

As she reached to pick it up, the static cleared and she heard a voice. 

"-n emergency broadcast from President Howard Goodman," said the radio. After some shuffling sounds came the voice of the President.

"Hello, everyone. I apologize that I was unable to broadcast last night. Unfortunately, we had a bit of a situation. It seems there are still followers of Wiggly out there and… we lost a few of our troops."

Hannah sighed. It was just a late update. Terrible to hear about the attack, but she was glad it wasn't any worse.

As he talked and she half-listened, Hannah's mind drifted. The Witch could control her powers. Curt has powers now. If both her and Curt had the potential to be a danger to the rest of the group, that was bad, right? His ringing could've hurt someone, Becky said so. And Hannah had turned off some lights, but what if she could've done more? Would she have saved herself, or hurt John?

"John," she asked, looking for him, and sadly not finding him visible. "Know the President, right?"

"That is correct," he confirmed. "Why?"

"Could he help?"

John didn't respond immediately. "Well, he is looking for survivors. If we could contact him, I'm sure he could help, but he shouldn't send anyone here. We can't risk the infected getting off the island."

Hannah nodded, and reached for the radio. She held it in her lap and closed her eyes, concentrating. She didn't know where the President was, but she could follow his voice, right?

"Hello?" she asked, in her head and aloud. "Hello? President?"

A moment later, she heard through the static, "Hello? This is President Goodman, who is this?"

"...Hannah."

"Good to hear from you, Hannah," he said, and did genuinely sound relieved. "Where are you? Are you safe?"

"No. Yes?" She tried to stay focused. "Safe for now. Hatchetfield. Don't come, dangerous. Infected, Wiggly, all bad."

"Where is Hatchetfield, Hannah?"

"Don't tell him," John advised. "If you tell him, people will come. We can't risk it."

"Can't say," Hannah shook her head. "John says can't say…"

"John?" the President asked. "How many people are with you?"

"John… not here. Professor, Lexie, Ethan… Oliver, Tom, Becky, Tim. Curt, Owen. That's all."

"So that's ten, including you? Where is John, if not with you?"

"Black and White."

There was a pause. "John McNamara?"

Hannah forced herself to keep her eyes closed. "Know him?"

"Yes, we worked together… once. I owe him my life. He's with you? Or, well, you're in contact with him?"

"Talk to him. Tethered." She pauses, biting her lip. "Shouldn't tell you. Don't tell anyone."

"I won't, Hannah. But will you give him a message from me?"

"Sure."

"Tell him… Tell him thank you, please. And tell him that I'm sorry."

Hannah heard John scoff. "He has nothing to apologize for. If anything, _I'm_ sorry for not helping more, and for sending him in there in the first place."

"Says nothing to be sorry for," Hannah repeated. "Says he's sorry he couldn't do more."

There was a pause, and then laughter. "Of course," said the President. "Hannah, please tell us where you are so we-"

The rest of the plea was static. Hannah focused, trying to regain the connection, but there was nothing. She opened her eyes. John was sitting beside her, present but see-through. She set the radio on the table, turned it off, and pretended she was leaning on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goodman... idk if you're gay but uh *cough* John is married, mr president....
> 
> anyway im very favorable to curt can you tell? also I was gonna say something else here, what the fuck was it
> 
> edit: OH YEAH!!!! buttons is something my sister (who i base a lot of hannah on) learned when she was in elementary school. we dont reallt do it anymore but i always thought it was cute ;v;


End file.
